Pages

Monday, February 22, 2010

Valentine's Shenanigans

Anyone that knows Ray is fully aware of his uncanny ability to think up the most hilarious shenanigans. From proposing to serenading ~ always for another, of course ~ he's always ready with a prank or joke to keep everyone in stitches. Valentine's Day just couldn't go unnoticed, and since he had found just the perfect poem with a few alterations........
His Sunday School teacher seemed to be the perfect hero for this perfect poem, so with a southern drawl that would melt the heart of stone, Ray read the poem as from Mr. Tesseneer to Mrs. Tesseneer. His plans had been to read it last Sunday, but Mr. Tesseneer was sick. Ray claimed it was love sickness, but that Mrs. Tesseneer hadn't caught it. : )


Kudzu is green, my dog's name is Blue
And I'm so lucky to have a sweet thang like you.
Yore hair is like cornsilk, a-flapping in the breeze.
Softer than Blue's and without all them fleas.
You move like the bass, which excite me in May.
You ain't got no scales, but I luv you anyway.
You're as graceful as okry, jist a-dancin' in the pan.
Yo're as fragrant as SunDrop right out of the can.
You have all yore teeth, for which I am proud;
I hold my head high when we're in a crowd.
Well, I'm in hawg heaven, I'm plumb outta my wits.
And speakin' of wits, you've got plenty to share
'Cuz you married me long before I had grey hair.
Still all them fellers at work they all want to know,
What I did to deserve such a purty, young doe.
Like a good roll of duct tape, yo're there for yore man,
To patch up life's troubles and stick 'em in the can.
Yo're strong as a four-wheeler racin' through the mud,
Yet fragile as that sanger named Naomi Judd.
Yo're as cute as a junebug a-buzzin' overhead.
You ain't mean like no far ant upon which I oft tread.
Cut from the best pattern like a flannel shirt of plaid,
You sparked up my life like a Rattletrap shad.
When you hold me real tight like a padded gunrack,
My life is complete; Ain't nuttin' I lack.
Yore complexion, it's perfection, like the best vinyl sidin'.
Despite all the years, yore age, it keeps hidin'.
And when you get old like a '57 Chevy,
Won't put you on blocks and let the grass grow up heavy.
Me 'n' you's like a Moon Pie, with a RC cold drank,
We go together like a skunk goes with stank.


Some men, they buy chocolate for Valentine's Day;
They git it at Wal-Mart; It's romantic that way.
Some men git roses on that special day,
From the cooler at Kroger.
"That's impressive," I say.
Some men buy fine diamonds from a flea market booth.


"Diamonds are forever," they explain, suave and couth.

But for this man, honey, these will not do.
For you are too special, you sweet thang you.
I got you a gift, without taste nor odour,
Better than diamonds.....


It's a new trollin' motor.

2 comments:

Amy Blackburn said...

How am I not surprised that Ray found this poem! Nice one!! Wish I could have been there to see it done - you are too funny!!!!

Ray Workman Family said...

Hey Amy,

At least I don't give roses "from the little red head boy!" She's probably still mad at you for that one.

I'm so nice, I know! No one needs to tell me that!!!!!

Jr