Perhaps it's all in your point of view.

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 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 flibbertijibbet! 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'd outpester any pest
Drive a hornet from its nest
She could throw a whirling dervish out of whirl
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.

Oh, how do you solve a problem like Maria?
How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?