She was so unlovable the birds
would stop singing when she was near,
parrots be at a loss for words,
and blue skies would turn drear.
Spring would come late as possible,
and summer seem so very far
and winter even more terrible
than March in Antarctica.
Personally she was a wet towel
who was rarely ever in fashion.
Her smile was more a scowl
and worst of all she was never fun.
But I loved her madly, for all her faults,
which I proved by doing somersaults.
