Before I
ask y'all, please understand,
Even though 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 like preachers set to dine,
Nicely say, "Mind if I trouble you,
Ma'am," -
Easy like - "to be my
Valentine?"
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
