I’m sure that I’ll always be
A lonely number like root three.
A three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three hide out of sight?
Beneath this vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine.
For nine could thwart this evil trick,
With just some quick arithmetic.
I fear that I’ll never see the sun,
Such is my reality,
A sad irrationality.
But hark, what is this I see?
Another square root of a three?
As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now, we multiply.
To form a number we both prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer.
We break free from our mortal bonds,
With the wave of magic wands.
Our square root signs become unglued,
Your love for me has been renewed.