its fleece as white as schnow;

Darling, In the event of a zombie apocalypse, I’m gonna marry you. And I know that romantic testimonial isn’t quite the matrimonial proposition you were expecting, but I’m projecting a lovely future for us. You see, when the dead break free, I’ll come save you. I’ll be your knight in shining Kevlar, your cranium-crushing crusader, and safe in our barricaded bungalow, we’ll match moans for groans with the shambling horde outside. We’ll make love ’til death do we part, or at least til we start to run out of supplies, and if we get in a pinch, I’ve got a surprise,
see I’ll paralyze them with poetry, cause if there’s anything a zombie understands, it’s desire: Meanwhile, you lay down suppressive fire and we’ll take out as many as we can. And if in the end we are overrun, I’ll let them take me so you can get away. They can have my brain,
it’s my heart that beats for you.