Constantly amazed by the blades of the fan on the ceiling
The clever glances she gives me can't help but be appealing
She loves to ride into town with the top down
Feel that warm breeze on her gentle skin
She is my next of kin
I see a little more of me every day
I catch a little more mustache turnin' gray
Your mother is the only other woman for me
Little Miss Magic, what you gonna be
Sometimes I catch her dreamin' and wonder where that little mind meanders
It's raining, it's pouring, your old man is snoring