Practical gift for The Special One

G. Sam Piatt

My cheap little homemade paper greetings that asked simply, “Won’t you be my valentine?” were good enough for the girls in Miss Wheeler’s class.

All except one, that is – the one who sat at the desk directly in front of mine, the one with the golden ponytail, the one who had captured my 8-year-old heart.

She was my One True Love, although she didn’t know it. In fact, she had never acknowledged that I existed on Planet Earth.

I had to get her something special. But with what? I didn’t even have two nickels to rub together.

Thankfully, I did have one nickel. And thankfully Wrigley’s spearmint cost just five cents.

I got into class early and left a package of it on her desk, on top of one of my greeting cards.

Miss Wheeler, of course, did not allow chewing gum while in class. I watched My True Love during recess as she opened the Wrigley’s and stuck a stick into that cute little mouth with the gleaming white teeth.

Then she gave a stick to the boy seated beside her!

Did she offer me one? Heck no.

So much for true love.


Now, many years later, as I pondered what to get my valentine for this Valentine’s Day, it was my Redneck friend, Freddie Frizzell (a third cousin to country singer William Orville “Lefty” Frizzell (1928-1975)), who gave me the idea for a very practical gift.

Freddie even gave his one and only a poem to go with it. He showed me a copy:


“Collards 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.

Yo’re as satisfy’n as okry

Jist a fry’n in the pan,

Yo’re as fragrant as ‘snuff’

Right out of the can.

You have some’a yore teeth,

For which I am proud;

I hold my head high

When we’re in a crowd.

On special occasions,

When you shave under yore arms,

Well, I’m in hawg heaven,

And awed by yore charms.

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 for your man,

To patch up life’s troubles

And fix what you can.

Cut from the best cloth

Like a plaid flannel shirt,

You spark up my life

More than a fresh load of dirt.

When you hold me real tight

Like a padded gunrack

My life is complete.

Ain’t nothin’ I lack.

Yore complexion, it’s perfection,

Like the best vinyl sidin’.

Despite all the years.

Yore age, it keeps hidin’.

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 get it at Wal-Mart,

It’s romantic that way.

Some men get roses

On that special day

From the cooler at Kroger’s.

“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 won’t do.

Cause yo’re too special,

You sweet thang you.

I got you a gift

Without taste nor odor,

More useful than diamonds…


G. Sam Piatt

Reach G. SAM PIATT at (606) 932-3619 or [email protected]

Reach G. SAM PIATT at (606) 932-3619 or [email protected]

comments powered by Disqus