It's hopeless. Try as he might, the eager young suitor with the brick-red eyes simply cannot inspire the beautiful female's affections.
He stands beside her, waving one iridescent wing over her as if making a blessing and producing what sounds like the drumming of a very small grouse. But she couldn't care less. His song and dance are not her style. And, he smells funny. He's literally not her type. In fact, he's another species entirely. She informs him of this with a little ditty of her own, call it the "buzz-off song," that sounds like a raspberry blown on a tiny kazoo.