You can’t analyse Anneliese,
she has too free a view.
Anneliese flies through the breeze
And makes a dream come true.
She’s a free-floater, not a voter.
There’s a song inside her head.
When she dances she prances, no
disco-romances;
She sways into my bed.
She’s a German daughter, no teacher
taught her.
No nails can hold her down.
When she needs to, she’s free to, no
rules to bow to;
She wears no fancy gown.
You can’t analyse Anneliese,
she has too free a view.
Anneliese flies through the breeze
And makes a dream come true.
She’s a true feminist, a brainy
anarchist.
She has no hatred in mind.
She’ll love and she’ll give and try
to forgive;
She’s not the possessive kind.
She’s a poet on skis, on a flying
trapeze.
For her beliefs, she’ll travel miles.
She’s a constant surprise, she’s a
gleam in my eyes;
I see planets in her smiles.
You can’t analyse Anneliese,
she has too free a view.
Anneliese flies through the breeze
And makes a dream come true.
Keith Armstrong
