Bless Your Heart Sonnet You been conceited since the day you was born. Walkin’ around with your nose so dang high In the air, you could drown in a rainstorm! You no apple pie on the fourth of July. You no sweet tea on a warm summer day: More like spoilt milk—in case you forgot it. Struttin’ around in your new lingerie, But no one gonna write you a sonnet. I swear to Gawd woman, you smash me to bits And our time together is cattywampus. You can kiss my behind and kiss my grits. You ain’t no Georgia peach, you just pompous. But bless your heart, you sure did butter my biscuit! And when you sizzle like bacon? Cain’t resist it.