Date: Tue Sep 12 2000 - 13:09:34 PDT
My daddy's always sendin me these things....good that I can send em out
once in a while (:
"A civilized society is one which tolerates eccentricity to the point of doubtful sanity."
-- Robert Frost
---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Wed, 10 Mar 1999 23:07:28 -0600
From: DON DALE <DDALE3@DIGISCAPE.COM>
To: 1-Mike Dale <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Subject: Ain't love grand ... Southern style
A ROMANTIC POEM
Kudzu is green, my dog's name is Blue. And I'm so lucky to have a
like you. Yore hair is like cornsilk, a-flappin' in the breeze.
Blue's, and without all them fleas.
You move like the bass, which excites me in May. You ain't got no
I luv you anyway. You're as graceful as okry, jist a dancin' in
as fragrant as SunDrop, right out of the can.
You have all yore teeth, for which I am proud; I hold my head high
in a crowd. On special occasions, when you shave yore armpits,
well I'm in
hawg heaven! Plumb outta my wits!
And speakin' of wits, you've got plenty fer shore. 'Cuz you
in '74. Still them fellers at work, they all want to know, What I
deserve such a purty, young doe.
Like a good roll of duct tape, yore there fer yore man, to patch
troubles, and stick 'em in the can. Yore as strong as a
through the mud, yet fragile as that sanger, named Naomi Judd.
Yore as cute as a junebug, a-buzzin' overhead. You ain't mean like
upon which I oft' tread. Cut from the best pattern, like a flannel
plaid, you sparked up my life, like a rattletrap shad.
When you hold me real tight, like a padded gunrack, my life is
nuttin I lack. Yore complexion, it's perfection, like the best
Despite all the years, yore age, it keeps hidin'.
And when you get old, like a '57 Chevy. I won't put you on blocks
grass grow up heavy. Me 'n' you's like a Moon Pie, with a RC cold
go together, like a skunk goes with stank.
Some men, they buy chocolate, for Valentine's Day; They git it at
it's romantic that way. Some men git roses on that special day,
cooler at Kroger; "that's impressive," I say.
Some men buy fine diamonds, from a flea market booth. "Diamonds
they explain, suave and couth. But for this man, honey, these will
For you are too special, you sweet thang you. I got you a gift,
nor odor, Better than diamonds; It's a new trollin' motor!
-- SAVE OUR PRESIDENT! LEGALIZE PERJURY!
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