Post Valentine Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Now Valentine has come and gone,
the mop just never turned her on.
I think, I'm going to, next year,
give her a carton of cold beer.

This way, it stands to reason, right (?)
that even though I may be tight
eventually, I'll pick the gift
that will bestow a hearty lift

upon the spirits and her heart.
So, do you think it would be smart
to get a blueprint overbore
for my beloved four-by-four?

Her mother, stupid broad (no Kraut) ,
keeps telling me that it's about
the love that comes with every present,
she thinks of me as one dull peasant.

I disagree, of course, and loudly,
I like that mop and carry proudly
a carton of the finest beer
in the car fridge for you my dear.

And, after souping up the ute,
transfoming it into a brute,
I can deliver so much faster
the lovely presents from your Master.

And, incidentally, my sweet,
your Dad is wearing on his feet
the socks he got for Father's Day:
Fluorescent green, a touch of gray.

A present should be practical,
and that requires tactical
response and planning and a mind,
both analytical and kind.