Saint Valentine of Rome was a priest,
In the 3rd century AD,
But the specific day of his feast –
The 14th of February –
Commemorates the awkward day
The poor bugger was confirmed dead,
When the Emperor had his say
And ordered “Off with his head!”
Nope, not much love lost there,
‘E copped it, the martyred bruv.
So you might be wondering where
St Val got his name for love.
Well, that’s in the mists of time.
Could’ve been the 14th Century:
Chaucer mentioned Val in a rhyme
Called the Parliament of Fowlery.
Whatevs. It’s all foolery
Now, flowery floppity dee.
Boys say girls I love thee
And she he and tee hee hee.
Roses are red – buy the box,
Violets are blue in candlelight,
Lovey cards and blocks of chocs
And the proclivities of the night.
Yep, everyone’s lost their head,
And many lose more than their heart
Over what it was he or she said
(Grinning while they hold in a fart).
Wilt thou be my Valentine?
Wilt thou love me (tender, true)?
Wilt thou, won’t thou, be mine,
Wilting flowers (I ask you!)
Put on a frock, lippy up
Apply some fresh mascara:
Time to sup from Cupid’s cup
And wake in Love’s caldera.
And in all of this what of Valentine?
Well, bits of him were buried in
A Roman basilica in a shrine
Santa Maria in Cosmedin.
Google it – or better, visit him,
It’s open the usual hours,
True to life – and not overly grim –
His skull is surrounded by flowers.
