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.