you ride the bus often?

If your average man When writing a girl And putting his paper to pencil Professes his love is "too wondrous for words," Then mark my advice and my counsel: His flattering pleas Are not worth a reply Though he blush while he stammers and stutters If he cannot find words to say just what he means, Then his mind is all berries and butters. But if by some chance Or strange circumstance Some fellow should bore you with speeches, Detailing his fancies in ongoing rants All of daisies and jewels and peaches, Don't feel you must listen To all of his drab, Though his mind may be built like a castle; For the fact is his heart is all cardboard and crabs And such fellows are nothing but hassle. A fellow, it’s true Who means nothing to you Neither blushes, nor rants of his passion Should never be sought, but be quickly forgot Like a hat that has gone out of fashion You'll know the right one By his heart and his tongue, Brimming over with feeling and praises And though he may stammer and stutter at times You’ll find joy in his thoughts and his gazes.

In spring we sow, at the harvest to mow