She's not worried about it,

Or she doesn't care,

That she doesn't have the world's sexiest shade of hair.

She wears gray pants

And a brown plaid flannel shirt,

And instead of make up,

She wears dirt upon her brow

From hoeing in her garden

And pruning her fruit trees,

From sweating beneath her beekeepers hood,

And tending to her Hampshire sheep.

They keep the shrub-brush nibbled down for her,

Which is more than the world,

With its sexiest shades of hair 

Has ever offered,

And they are rather partial to her muslin colored flannel shirt,

And she, to the idea of the Golden Fleece 

She's found, that the world's forgot.

-jenn