Somebody's Sent A Funny Little Valentine To

O, It Sets My Heart A Clickin' Like The Tickin' Of A Clock, When The Frost Is On The Punkin And The Fodder's In The Shock.

And The Sun Had On A Crown Wrought Of Gilded Thistledown, And A Scarf Of Velvet Vapor And A Raveled Rainbow Gown; And His Tinsel-tangled Hair Tossed And Lost Upon The Air Was Glossier And Flossier Than Any Anywhere.

As One Who Cons At Evening O'er An Album All Alone, And Muses On The Faces Of The Friends That He Has Known, So I Turn The Leaves Of Fancy, Till In Shadowy Design I Find The Smiling Features Of An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.

Think Of Him Still As The Same, I Say, He Is Not Dead, He Is Just - Away.

One Naked Star Has Waded Through The Purple Shallows Of The Night, And Faltering As Falls The Dew It Drips Its Misty Light.