I found this birthday card, made for me 30 years ago.
The poem was apparently a group effort:
You're so completely weird,
We can't begin to tell.
It's the kind of weirding,
That must come staight from Hell.
You like country music,
You sing arias with a twang.
You haven't found anyone
With whom you cannot hang.
Everyone loves you
but we hear them all say
"She's so weird, so completely weird."
"What must it be like, being her for a day?"
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