Swedish Lady

Here comes that pretty, Swedish lady again.  
I see her on the road most mornings.  
She only tells me hello when she’s passing.  
And I only say hi to her in response.  
How I want her to say something else.  
I’m not satisfied with just hello all the time.  

Her smile seems to be inviting a conversation.  
I suppose she’s a traditional person.  
Perhaps she wants me to make the first move.  
I’m not sure; she could be just shy.  
Does her heart pound when she greets me?  
I wonder if she thinks the same way I do.  
 
Even though I’d like to know more about her,  
I won’t ask the Swedish lady her name.  
I stand at my gate in the morning just to see her,  
But I don’t want her to know about this.  
If she starts a conversation with me, I’d be glad.  
Every time I woo a girl, I don’t succeed.  
 
I don’t want to tell her nice things in vain,  
So I won’t say she’s the prettiest lady I’ve ever seen.  
I won’t tell her that I like the way she walks,  
Neither will I say she’s the lady I desire.  
And I’m not going to tell her that I’m falling for her.  
I’ll just tell her hi whenever I see her.