Away, away, oh wayward wind

Away, away, oh wayward wind –
I've had enough of your finesse!
Why try to lift her silken skirt
And not just ask her to undress?

Oh I suppose it's not your fault –
For after all, you have no choice.
We must make do with what we have –
And though you breathe, you have no voice.

And b'sides all that, you lack a form –
A shape to which girls can relate.
I'm sorry, mate – it's sad but true:
You mystics share a lonely fate.

Well, darling wind, let's strike a deal –
Why don't you leave the lass to me?
Go try to court the leaves instead –
I'm off to ask her out for tea.