A day set aside for all lovers to rock,
Valentine*s Day, what a vile crock.
This sugar sweet con makes me hurl,
Perhaps as a Valentine*s Day mural.
Feminist Icons preach against man,
But on V-Day he must give all he can,
While listening to the hypocrites whine,
Man must lavish gifts, wine and dine.
Oh, the mockery of these evil creatures,
As they mask their disdainful features,
Secretly laughing at the pitiful hope,
Pasted on the face of their male dope.
Soon, instead of tight dresses and hose,
She wears sweatpants and headache woes.
Gone in a flash are makeup and lipstick,
Replaced by wool and curlers real quick.
The poor sap, having delivered the goods,
Finds he might as well sleep in the woods.
His V-Day siren vanished before his eyes,
Leaving a vapor trail of excuses and lies.
She sprang to her bed, without even a whistle,
Dashing his dreams like the down of a thistle,
He heard her exclaim as she dove out of sight,
Happy V-Day to me, now turn out the light.