Incurably Romantic

                                  I'm susceptible to stars in the skies,

I'm incurably romantic,

If they're told to me all covered with sighs,

The wildest of lies seems true.

Each time a lovebird sings,

I have no defenses,

My heart is off on wings

Along with my senses.

I'm a set-up for the moon when it's bright,

I'm incurably romantic.

And I shouldn't be allowed out at night,

With anyone quite like you.

But, oh! Your arms are nice,

And it would be awfully nice

If you turned out to be starry-eyed like me,

And incurably romantic too.