Leap Year Valentine
My dear young man: I want to state
I know your measurements and gait
And you’re no mental heavyweight,
Nor are you apt to jar the state,
But what of that? I don’t desire
A man to set the seas on fire.
He, whom the very gods admire
Is apt to blow up like a tire.
I want a man who earns enough
to keep the kids in shoes and stuff,
So we can make a decent bluff
At being somewhat up to snuff,
But I don’t want a man so bent
On profiteering and per cent
That all his days and nights are spent
Upon that one accomplishment.
I want a man whose form and face
Proclaim him of the human race,
But not of such transcendent grace
He aims to take Apollo’s place,
For it is my judicial view
Most men are steadfast, strong and true
As they’re unattractive. You,
In this respect, I think will do.
So if you’d like a wedding trip
By motor, trolley, train or ship,
With me along, well here’s my tip:
Don’t let your present chances slip.
If you agree to this just sign
The contract on the dotted line
And take me while the taking’s fine.
Your loving, leap-year
Bisbee [AZ] Daily Review 15 February 1920: p. 4
Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: It appears that the narrator has exceedingly low standards for a mate–and expects that the chosen candidate will fail to achieve even those modest requirements. Mrs Daffodil wishes her joy.
In this Leap Year when, traditionally, the ladies may propose to the Beloved, Mrs Daffodil also wishes her readers the happiness of loving and being loved on this Valentine’s Day.
Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdote
You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.