Anniversary

My wife and I are getting ready to celebrate our 58th anniversary. Actually we met in the North Carolina mountains 64 years ago this month. I'm wondering if you think this would be an appropriate message to her.


Kudzu is green, my dog's name is Blue
And I'm so lucky to have a sweet thang like you.

Yore hair is like cornsilk, a-flapping in the breeze.
Softer than Blue's and without all them fleas.

You move like the bass, which excite me in May.
You ain't got no scales, but I luv you anyway.

You're as graceful as okry, jist a-dancin' in the pan.
Yo're as fragrant as SunDrop right out of the can.

You have all yore teeth, for which I am proud;
I hold my head high when we're in a crowd.

On special occasions, when you shave yore armpits,
Well, I'm in hawg heaven, I'm plumb outta my wits.

And speakin' of wits, you've got plenty fer shore.
'Cuz you married me back in '74.

Still them fellers at work they all want to know,
What I did to deserve such a purty, young doe.

Like a good roll of duct tape, yo're there fer yore man,
To patch up life's troubles and stick 'em in the can.

Yo're as strong as a four-wheeler racin' through the mud,
Yet fragile as that sanger named Naomi Judd.

Yo're as cute as a junebug a-buzzin' overhead.
You ain't mean like no far ant upon which I oft' tread.

Cut from the best pattern like a flannel shirt of plaid,
You sparked up my life like a Rattletrap shad.

When you hold me real tight like a padded gunrack,
My life is complete; Ain't nuttin' I lack.

Yore complexion, it's perfection, like the best vinyl sidin'.
Despite all the years, yore age, it keeps hidin'.

And when you get old like a '57 Chevy,
Won't put you on blocks and let grass grow up heavy.

Me 'n' you's like a Moon Pie, with a RC cold drank,
We go together like a skunk goes with stank.

Some men, they buy chocolate for Valentine's Day;
They git it at Wal-Mart; It's romantic that way.

Some men git roses on that special day,
From the cooler at Kroger. "That's 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 will not do.
For you are too special, you sweet thang you.

I got you a gift, without taste nor odour,
Better than diamonds, it's a new trollin' motor.