Before I ask y'all, please understand, Even as 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 polite as preachers set to dine, Nicely say, 'Mind if I trouble you, Ma'am,' - Easy like - 'to be my Valentine?'
