Poem No.85

POEM TITLE Valentine's Lament

POEM My love, she loves a bright red shell

Freshly off the boil

My love, she loves the heady smell

Of a butt’ry jersey royal

So sweet and soft and moist and rich

So deep in love is she

That never will I please her til

That napkin’s on her knee

Until the pint is chilled and stands

Proudly by her plate

My love she will not be content

This has to be the date

And so I rang that pub she loves

That pub up in Blackness

Alas! No space! It’s all booked up

So now I’m one love less.