Valentines Day Poem

14th Feb 2008

Back to the Craic
John Paul Valentino


Today's the day when the love comes out,
Flowers and cards, the romance and stout.

Even though they've now, got equality,
You've got to make your doll your priority,

She's not going to surprise you with loads of new stuff,
Yes, life as a feen in love can be tough.

She'll be expecting the works, the incense and candles,
Presuming you'd scrape the dogs dirt from her sandals,

But if you've no old doll and you need to get sorted,
Head down into town for fine beours all assorted.

For Cork girls are pretty, they're clever and quick,
With our own dear maidens you'll certainly click.

As a Corkman your best gift is no doubt conversation,
'Cos talk is our life blood, chat, our vocation.

We'd talk to the walls, to the floor and the ceiling,
There's something about silence, that gives us that feeling,

Of uncomfortable awkwardness, there's no topic we hate,
Agreement, dispute, discussion, debate.

Wrangling, mangling, quarrel, consult,
Considering the risk of throwing in an insult,

No beating about bushes, we'll tell you out straight,
That trait of a Corkman that makes him so great,

Even if she's upset and demanding her tissues,
The Corkman won't stray from addressing the issues,

No farting around with the smooth diplomatics,
No mincing our words or linguistic acrobatics,

You'll know where we stand and better off she will be,
With this incredible gift that you've been given for free.

So this skill that you have that is so much desired,
Accompanied by the beautiful tones you've acquired,

For a Corkman's accent is all about how he croons,
His moods are reflected in the range of this tunes.

Sing-along dips as he pitches and falls,
Even specific tones for when he's quite up-the-walls,

It's all part of the package when you score with a native,
It makes him so funny, so cute and creative.

Now young maidens of Cork, don't sit back and expect,
Show the boys of this county some love and respect.

So if you're already attached, listen up to the sceál,
'Cos we've got a suggestion for you and your male,

The days are long gone when ye were chained to the sinks,
So get up off your behinds and take him out for some drinks,

Get him tanked up and in your tent he'll be camping,
In your lovely Cork eyes all night he'll be lamping,

And when the pub throws you out, you know what he'd murder,
The most romantic of meals: mushy peas and a burger.

As the sauce on his jacket drifts down from above,
Just think about your future, your children and love.

And if he's distracted as you head for your home,
Like insisting on wearing an old traffic cone,

Make room for his new friend in the back of the cab,
And tell him his hat, really does look quite fab,

If he crawls from the taxi pretending he's Simon the Snake,
Tell him you're a squirrel and that you'd like to partake,

In a race you've concocted, to the front door of the gaf,
Just be careful, post-burger, that he's more likely to barf.

For its laughter and joy and those silly little things,
Not pressure about flowers and chocolates and rings,

That will keep you your man, and make sure he stays loyal,
And that his treatment of you, his devotee, remains royal

For it's the craic and the laughs and not being pedantic,
That will make this evening really smooth and romantic.