She hangs down the wall,
Like the frills of petticoats,
Her aroma dances on the air,
Into your senses it floats.
Her little fancy purple flowers,
Sends others into a fit of hysteria,
She will captivate you for hours,
She is our lady called Wisteria.
Like the frills of petticoats,
Her aroma dances on the air,
Into your senses it floats.
Her little fancy purple flowers,
Sends others into a fit of hysteria,
She will captivate you for hours,
She is our lady called Wisteria.
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