I'm Nuts

Dear Elizabeth,

Tomorrow, you know, is our tenth anniversary,
and though we don't really have a nursery,
I wait for kids' sleep, to gather a thought
because while they're awake, think I cannot.

I'm so glad that you've decided to be mine,
though I couldn't have written "Plain Valentine."
When I tried to compose my "Eternity Waltz,"
all that came out on the screen was pure schmaltz.

Besides, that's not how I wooed you back then.
Or was that how YOU wooed instead?  'Twas your grin
as you laughed, laughed, and laughed again,
so I'll write to "Nuts" by dear old Paul Kwinn:

Elizabeth Margareta Griffith is my love.
I'll sing it to the seven seas and to the skies above.
I realize that we have lived together for some years.
I'm singing now to ask you:  Please stay with me right here.
The reasons you might do so make little sense to me,
for I'm an academic and will never be wealthy.
I'm not a hunk at all, and I have no gorgeous butt.
And worst of all, my love knows I am nuts.

I'm absolutely nuts, my dear, you know it's really true.
I got to cons and sing and filk until I'm turning blue.
You smile and laugh and kiss me when I've gotten paper cuts.
You've lived with me, and you should know I'm nuts!

Love,
Sherman
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