'Twas the night before Valentine's Day, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The paper hearts were hung by the bed posts with care,
In hopes that St. Valentine soon would be there;
The girls were nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of Beckham and Pitt danced in their heads;
And mamma in her snuggie, and I in my porn,
Had just settled down for a long cosmic horn,
When down from the yard arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the stairs I flew like a flash,
Hoping my pinky toe wouldn't get mash.
The moon on the breast of the brown-coloured snow,
Gave the lustre of rust to objects below,
When, what to my bloodshot eyes should appear,
But a rasshole baby, with a big ass spear.
With the little old fart, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be a prick.
More rapid than SARS his courses they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them hoes by name;
"Now, Pookie! now, Buffy! now, Ginger and Vixen!
On, Chardonnay! on Mercedes! on, Ginger and Blitzen!"
Happy Valentine's Day!
This ode is dedicated to all those poor boyfriends/husbands/baby daddys/FWB that just went out to Peoples and spent their paycheque trying to impress their lady friends for a made up corporate holiday. Sucks to be you. Good thing St. Patrick's Day is next month so you can drink some sense back into you.