Collards is green, my dogs name is Blue, and Im so lucky to have a sweet thang like you.

Yore hair is like corn silk a-flapping in the breeze, softer than Blues and without all them fleas.



You move like the bass, which excite me in May, you aint got no scales but I luv you anyway.



Yore as satisfyn as okry, jist a-fryn in the pan, yore as fragrant as snuff right out of the can.



You have somea yore teeth, for which I am proud, I hold my head high when were in a crowd.



On special occasions, when you shave under yore arms, well, Im 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 yore there fer yore man, to patch up lifes troubles and fix what you can.



Yore as cute as a June bug a-buzzin overhead, you aint 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; aint nuttin I lack.



Yore complexion, its perfection, like the best vinyl sidin, despite all the years, yore age, it keeps hidin.



Me n yous 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, its romantic that way.



Some men git roses on that special day, from the cooler at Kroger. Thats 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 wont do, cause yore too special, you sweet thang you.



I got you a gift, without taste nor odor, more useful than diamonds… ITS A NEW TROLLIN MOTOR!!



Luv, BUBBA