‘Twas two nights before Valentine’s, and worried men are in the streets.
Worried men peering into shop windows, worried men looking at sweets.
They are tiptoeing and eyeing the bracelets with care,
To forget and offend the girlfriend they’ll never dare.
The ladies are going back home to their beds,
Either lonely or dreams of roses filling their heads.
When outside that fucking February weather,
Is chilling the bone and making soggy coats wetter.
Their sweethearts are labouring, choosing the next 2 for 1,
Shuffling down aisles and having oodles of fun.
Gazing at chocolates ribboned up red and pink,
Wondering if they got the cheapest what the missus would think.
And as the sleet makes the roads slush with black water,
Randy ones are poking at brassieres and red garters.
Picking up the tatty ones, what could be dumber.
When all they need is a trip to Ann Summer’s.
Across the square young boys are nervously poking
At teddy bears, necklaces and other sparkly things.
The old ones look at the intiates sadly and sigh,
Now the poor sods will be at this every year till they die.
