The first time that I saw you, love, twas in the deepest shade.
My heart did race, my stomach turned, and up my mind was made.
I have to try, I have to ask, I have to make you mine.
I beg you, please, you have to be my monster valentine.
Love ne’er before have mine eyes seen so many pustules seep,
Nor skin so slick, nor mouth so skewed, nor sores that run so deep.
Your beauty makes me want to barf into a cooking pot.
I’d add some toes, Enthoven’s nose, then season it with snot.
I’d stew it then until it formed, a ripe aperitif
And decorate it with a few of Andy Briggs’s teeff.
My love, this would but be a taste, a whiff of what’s to come:
For main we’d feast on Joe Craig’s heart and roasted author’s bum.
And if, my dear, this did not fill your beauteous bulging belly,
For sweet I’d make a special dish of David Melling jelly.
What say you love? I have to know. Please say that you’ll be mine.
I beg you, please … please say you’ll be, my monster valentine.
Eek!
16/02/2009 at 1:58 pm Permalink
By dode! Gub bag wid by dode!
(applies superglue) Phew.
Honestly, without my nose, how am I going to smell?
“Terrible” chorus other authors. -Boom, tish! Yes, folks, I’m here until they let me out. AAAAGH!
16/02/2009 at 3:19 pm Permalink
Good grieff – Melling Jelly? No wonder they’ve all got spoons. Can’t stop shaking – which is REALLY not helping…