Redneck Valentine
You melt my butter.
You sop my gravy.
There is no other
like my redneck baby.
You're the frost on my mug;
the salt on my pretzel.
You really squish my mud.
You're the one I want to wrestle.
But if faithful, you're not,
or you be loose and fast;
not Cupid's arrow shot,
but mine, in your ass!
Love, Arlene
|