Clarinda barinda, my lobely, my own,
Your lober-boy lobes you, yea, lobes you alone.
He tinks you’re so pecial, so veautiful, too,
Can’t help but keep falling in lobe ober you.

So elightful you are, like the veam of a star,
He bonders, sometimes, if you eally are.
And when he is tinking, alone in the ight,
Like a ream you come veaming in lobeliest sight!

Clarinda barinda, my recious, my true,
O ight of my ife, there’s no one ike you!