Peep behind the greater works of man,
A winsome woman sits behind the array,
Controlling all moments of the hurricane,
To guide the miss-guiders to right way,
Woman I call you a never-ending power,
All small men’s foible I call you Oh! Fair,
The weakness of men the scent of flower,
But every weakness demands a lot care.
Ah! To his own woman everyone is slave,
That controls the actions of men’s mind,
None can avoid it coward or brave,
But to pretty woman we are not kind
Listen the hands go to mouth not to ear,
I call it a woman and nothing my dear.