A Cowboy's Valentine
I hold the hair of my lady near—
That in the sweet spring breeze does blow,
As I softly whisper in her ear
Of love only a few can know.
Some say that our passion should not be,
That it’s something not natural—
But it will last as long as the sea—
Hand in hand by the old corral.
I can’t help but love her equine nose
As we sashay ‘midst all the poop—
Her breath is fresh as dew-touched rose,
Though her big, blank fish eyes do droop.
And if our love does seem a might coarse,
Reckon I’s just a cowboy lout—
I’s talkin’ ‘bout my gal, NOT my horse—
She’s just not much to write home about!
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