She climbs a tree and scrapes her knee, her dress has got a tear. She waltzes on her way to mass and whistles on the stair. And underneath her wimple, she has curlers in her hair. I've even heard her singing in the abbey. She's always late for chapel, but her penitence is real. She's always late for everything, except for every meal. I hate to have to say it, but I very firmly feel, Maria's not an asset to the abbey. I'd like to say a word in her behalf. Maria makes me laugh. How do you solve a problem like Maria? How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? How do you find a word that means Maria? A flibbity-dibbit, a will-o'-the-wisp, a clown. Many a thing you know you'd like to tell her. Many a thing she ought to understand. But how do you make her stay and listen to all you say? How do you keep a wave upon the sand? Oh, how do you solve a problem like Maria? How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand? When I'm with her, I'm confused, out of focus, and bemused. And I never know exactly where I am. Unpredictable as weather. She's as flighty as a feather. She's a darling. She's a demon. She's a lamb. She'll outpest any pest, drive a hornet from its nest. She can throw a whirling dervish out of world. She is gentle. She is wild. She's a riddle. She's a child. She's a headache. She's an angel. She's a girl. How do you solve a problem like Maria? How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? How do you find a word that means Maria? A flibbertigibbet. A will-o'-the-wisp. A cloud. Many a thing you know you'd like to tell her. Many a thing she ought to understand. But how do you make her stay and listen to all you say? How do you keep a wave upon the sand? Oh, how you solve a problem like Maria. How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?