typeracer

Someday he'll come along, the man I love, and he'll be big and strong, the man I love. And when he comes my way, I'll do my best to make him stay. He'll look at me and smile, I'll understand, then in a little while, he'll take my hand. And though it seems absurd, I know we both won't say a word. Maybe I shall meet him Sunday, maybe Monday, maybe not. Still I'm sure to meet him one day, maybe Tuesday will be my good news day.