A kiss on the hand
     A fine, courtly, bow
A rogue with a smile
     And a twinkling eye

These things will reduce me
     To a breathless fluster;
A blush, A puddle:
     A shiver of delight

A hopeless romantic:
     A white rose
The smell of perfume
     Or a rumbling bass voice

Will set me to tingling
     Like a schoolgirl

Isn’t it silly?
     To be reduced to putty
By such little things?
     And isn’t it grand?