"On Valentine's day, will a gooid gooise lay," is a varry old sayin',
an' aw dare say a varry gooid en; an' if all th' geese wod nobbut lay
o' that day ther'd be moor chonce o' eggs bein' cheap. But it isn't
th' geese we think on at th' fourteenth o' this month i'ts th' little
ducks, an' th' billy dux. A'a aw wish aw'd all th' brass 'at's spent
o' valentines for one year; aw wodn't thank th' queen to be mi aunt.
Ther's nobdy sends me valentines nah. Aw've known th' time when they
did, but aw'm like a old stage cooach, aw'm aat o' date. Aw'st niver
forget th' furst valentine aw had sent. Th' pooastman browt it afoor
aw'd getten aat o' bed, an' it happen'd to be Sunday mornin'. Aw read
it ovver an' ovver agean, an' aw luk'd at th' directions an' th'
pooast mark, but aw cudn't make aat for mi life who'd sent it; but
whoiver it war aw wor detarmined to fall i' love wi' her as soain as
aw gate to know. Then aw shov'd it under th' piller an' shut mi een
an' tried to fancy what sooart ov a lass shoo must be, an' someha aw
fell asleep, an' aw dremt, but aw willn't tell yo what aw dremt for
fear yo'll laff. But when aw wakken'd, aw sowt up an' daan, but
nowhere could aw find th' valentine. Aw wor ommost heartbrokken, an'
aw pool'd all th' cloas off th' bed, an' aw luk'd under it, an' ovver
it, but net a bit on it could aw see, an' at last aw began to fancy
'at aw must ha dremt all th' lot, an' 'at aw'd niver had one sent at
all; but when aw wor gettin' mi breeches on, blow me! if it worn' t
stuck fast wi a wafer to mi shirt lap. What her 'at sent it ud a sed
if shoo'd seen it, aw can't tell an' aw wodn't if aw could; but aw
know one thing, aw wor niver i' sich a muck sweeat afoor sin aw wor
born, an' when aw went to mi braikfast aw 'wor soa maddled, wol aw
couldn't tell which wor th' reight end o'th' porridge spooin, but aw
comforted misen at last wi' thinkin' 'at aw worn't th' furst 'at had
turned ther back ov a valentine.