Jack. Jill. A red brick house. A happy home. A brave heart. A Valentine's Day tale. Jack had the brave heart to buy a red brick house, water pail in hand. Jack did not fall down and break his crown when Jill went up that blustery hill, all alone. Jack laid back, for Jack was smoother than a fresh jar of Skippy. Jack was bringing sexyback with his water pail. Jill was shiny like a purring pussycat from the Serengeti: clever, curious and very pretty.
The wishing well between Jack and Jill was not painted with 50 shades of grey, and yet, their love would not be denied on that starry, starry night. Jack went down on bended knee and swore to be the only man for pretty Jill up on that windswept hill. Jill loved the house that Jack built. Jack's red brick house hosted his festive wedding to Jill. So that, children, is how I married your mother. Some say that love don't work that way, but what do those people really know about love? Let your dad tell you about love, kids: love is an eternal flame that cannot be doused by a pail full of water, love is higher than a Valentine's hill and deeper than any wishing well, love is a Jack and love is a Jill. If you are Romeo and Juliet, you fall in love and then you die. (Try to avoid that iambic pentameter noise.)
Love is a fever, a kiss is the cure, of this I am sure. Jack loved Jill. Jack was a king once Jill became his queen, it was a love thing, and the colored girls sing: love is a wonderful thing. Happy Valentine's Day!
