That's what you would say.

And I'll tell you more: your heart is saying so this living minute.

I can see it in your face.

You're thinking, Here's poor friendship for the man I've starved along of, and as for the girl that I set up to be in love with, here's a mighty limp kind of a love that won't carry me as far as 'most any man would go for a demijohn of whisky.

There's not much ROmance to that love, anyway; it's not the kind they carry on about in songbooks.