A Woman Is Like To, But Stay, What A Woman Is Like, Who Can Say? There Is No Living With Or Without One. Love Bites Like A Fly, Now An Ear, Now An Eye, Buzz, Buzz, Always Buzzing About One. When SHe's Tender And Kind She Is Like To My Mind, (And Fanny Was So, I Remember). SHe's Like To, Oh, Dear! SHe's As Good, Very Near, As A Ripe, Melting Peach In September. If She Laugh, And She Chat, Play, Joke, And All That, And With Smiles And Good Humor She Meet Me, SHe's Like A Rich Dish Of Venison Or Fish, That Cries From The Table, Come Eat Me! But She'll Plague You And Vex You, Distract And Perplex You; False-Hearted And Ranging, Unsettled And Changing, What Then Do You Think, She Is Like? Like Sand? Like A Rock? Like A Wheel? Like A Clock? Ay, A Clock That Is Always At Strike. Her Head'S Like The Island Folks Tell On, Which Nothing But Monkeys Can Dwell On; Her Heart'S Like A Lemon, So Nice She Carves For Each Lover A Slice; In Truth SHe's To Me, Like The Wind, Like The Sea, Whose Raging Will Hearken To No Man; Like A Mill, Like A Pill, Like A Flail, Like A Whale, Like An Ass, Like A Glass Whose Image Is Constant To No Man; Like A Shower, Like A Flower, Like A Fly, Like A Pie, Like A Pea, Like A Flea, Like A Thief, Like, In Brief, SHe's Like Nothing On Earth, But A Woman!