I will pronounce your name, Mary,
I will declaim you, Mary!
Mary, your name is as mild as cinnamon, the Fragrance in which the lemon grove sleeps.
Mary, your love is note fragrant than wine;
Fragrant is the scent of your perfume.
Your name alone is like perfume poured out.
Oh! Why wouldn't I pronounce your name?
How beautiful you are, my dearest, inamorata
And one in a gazillion; O how pulchritudinous;
Your eyes are like doves.
Your beauty is the sole manacle that fetters
Me ad infinitum and entombs me in incessant
Ecstasy. Mary, my dearest and loveliest,
Indeed you're beautiful without a flaw.
Mary, my dearest, you're a paragon among Gazillions; your eyes are like doves beside Brookes of water splashed by the milky water As they sit where it's drawn; your lips are lilies And drop liquid myrrh; pricelessly glossy.
I'm your hero and number one fan and now I've become your sorcerer, my coin of gold, my
Sun, my treasure without measure.
I will pronounce your name, Mary
My pulchritudinous paramour, inamorata, pride and Bride.
Come what may, I shall always pronounce That dry tornado, the hard clap of lightening, Mary!