Day-o

A Valentine's, that lovely day
When all should be in love somehow;
No matter what I do or say,
No cupid comes to see me now.
I do not fly his little wings
Or dodge his arrow-shafts mid-air;
And if I were to judge such things
I'd doubt that he would even care
If I renounced him for forever
And went upon my life alone
For he has ceased to persever
And fat and lazy he has grown.
But ah, I tempt him, and he flies
To stab me with love-darting eyes.