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Before I ask y'all, please understand,
Even as I come from way down South,
My heart is more loquacious than my mouth,
Yearning like a wave for your smooth sand.
Very few down here will show their hand,
Aching like a riverbed for rain,
Lying like a platitude in pain,
Each chili inside, outside baked beans bland.
Now here down South it ain't right to demand
The things you're dying for, but you real fine,
In a voice polite as preachers set to dine,
Nicely say, 'Mind if I trouble you, Ma'am,' -
Easy like - 'to be my Valentine?'
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