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Your hair is but a memory,Your teeth are frankly fake.I rent us porno DVDs,But you can�t stay awake.Your hypertension�s frightening,Your indigestion�s chronic.Your circulatory system flowsWith mainly gin and tonic.No chocolates, flowers, perfume,Or sweet romantic poem.Your perfect night of passionIs Arsenal playing at home.You promised me a high life,Champagne, caviar, coke �Now it�s chips and curry,�Cos you�re so flaming broke.But still � please be my ValentineYou�re probably not the worst.I�d marry you again unlessGeorge Clooney asked me first.
I all got was a card from DH that said, I love your Juicy Melons . Your poem is far more poetic.
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