My Funny Valentine

My Funny Valentine (being a much-needed antidote to all that hearts & flowers rubbish)

I have to say it’s been a bit slow lately,

In the “bedroom department” you know,

So I thought I’d tempt my dear beloved,

And try to bring back the old glow. 

February four-teenth looked a good bet,

For that, as you know, is Valentine.

I thought that if I put in some effort,

Once again, our hearts could entwine. 

I went and bought her some fine roses,

The best ones I could see in the shop.

It cost me an absolute fortune,

My funds had already started to drop. 

Undeterred, I continued my bounty,

And I added a selection of chocs:

Nothing cheap, I really must emphasise,

Not a small one, but a very large box. 

I wrote her poem, declaring my love,

And put it into her Valentine card.

It’s not easy writing poetry, you know,

It fact, I’d say it’s quite hard. 

And finally I worked at the cook-book,

To present her with a very fine dinner.

I felt sure that this would win her heart,

I’d even say I was on to a winner. 

I made our dining arrangements,

And over the details I took some pain.

There was soft, gentle lighting,

Mood music, and some pinkish champagne. 

I hoped that she’d be impressed,

As she swooned over the effects,

And hopefully, when she’d eaten her meal,

There’d be kissing, and cuddling and sex. 

But the best-laid plans of mice and of men,

Are often reputed to go far astray.

The course of true love rarely runs smooth:

I was in for a disappointment that day. 

She was allergic to the chocolates I’d bought,

And she burnt her mouth on the soup.

The meal I’d cooked was truly awful,

And the sauce just tasted like gloop. 

She thought my poem was real corny,

She scratched her arm on the roses’ thorn,

She got drunk on the champagne,

Which left my hopes all forlorn.

She went off to bed with a headache,

As can be a fair creature’s fashion.

I had to do all the washing-up,

And that was the end to all of my passion. 

I was left on my own,

To sigh and to moan.

I’d wined her,

I’d dined her.

I’d thought that we two,

Would bill & would coo,

But it’s easy to see,

It just wasn’t to be. 

So what lesson can we draw from this tale?

What should we take as love’s sign?

Well - if you think pink,

It’ll drive you to drink.

You know in your head,

That it won’t lead to bed.

So he’s got a lot to answer for, that Valentine!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013