There is a threat to your health, if you're a guy out there, and so we offer this little poem as a warning:
Valentine's Day is next Wednesday, I hear.
So write it down because I know this is true.
To forget Valentine is a felony crime
to every woman that I ever knew.
A good woman's love is the best thing there is,
but an old guy like me understands,
forget Valentine and she'll turn on a dime.
You'll have a loon astronaut on your hands.
Late getting home, lampshade for a hat,
they'll let it go once, maybe twice.
But no Valentine, hon? I suggest that you run.
That butcher knife is ready to slice.
On a hill far away where the grass is so green,
is the grave of a well-meaning guy.
Carved there on his stone that stands all alone
is a warning for all who pass by:
"Had I written it down, I wouldn't be here.
They wouldn't have needed this shrine.
Because I am the one, poor son of a gun:
The man who forgot Valentine."
I hope you'll take this to heart.
E-mail Face the Nation.
By Bob Schieffer