Collards is green, my dog’s name is Blue, and I’m so lucky to have a sweet thang like you.
Yore hair is like corn silk a-flapping in the breeze, softer than Blue’s and without all them fleas.
You move like the bass, which excite me in May, you ain’t got no scales but I luv you anyway.
Yo’re as satisfy’n as okry, jist a-fry’n in the pan, yo’re as fragrant as “snuff” right out of the can.
You have some’a yore teeth, for which I am proud, I hold my head high when we’re in a crowd.
On special occasions, when you shave under yore arms, well, I’m in hawg heaven, and awed by yore charms.
Still them fellers at work, they all want to know, what I did to deserve such a purdy, young doe.
Like a good roll of duct tape yo’re there fer yore man, to patch up life’s troubles and fix what you can.
Yo’re as cute as a June bug a-buzzin’ overhead, you ain’t mean like those far ants I found in my bed.
Cut from the best cloth like a plaid flannel shirt, you spark up my life more than a fresh load of dirt.
When you hold me real tight like a padded gun rack, my life is complete; ain’t nuttin’ I lack.
Yore complexion, its perfection, like the best vinyl sidin’, despite all the years, yore age, it keeps hidin’.
Me ‘n’ you’s like a Moon Pie with a RC cold drank, we go together like a skunk goes with stank.
Some men, they buy chocolate, they git it at Wal-Mart, it’s romantic that way.
Some men git roses on that special day, from the cooler at Kroger. “That’s impressive,” I say.
Some men buy fine diamonds from a flea market booth, “diamonds are forever,” they explain, suave and couth.
But for this man, honey, these won’t do, cause yor’e too special, you sweet thang you.
I got you a gift, without taste nor odor, more useful than diamonds… IT’S A NEW TROLLIN’ MOTOR!!
Luv, BUBBA