Her life began, as you might assume,

When she beat a hasty retreat from the womb

Her wit was legend by the time she was six,

No one could ever catch on to her tricks

But Ellen cared not for the praise, not one bit,

Even when it came from her dear cousin, Whit

The girls became buddies, of the rarest kind,

No two more alike in spirit and mind

Whitney cried on the day Ellen left for the city

She was now all alone, and it felt pretty… um, bad

Though their visits were fun, they just weren’t enough,

And saying goodbye became rougher than rough

But Ells was just fine, yes she tore it up good,

Doing the things you WISH that you could

And sometimes, she’d think of her poor lonely cousin

For the good times they’d shared, she could count by the dozen

So the girls reunited, and they did it real fast

And were just as close as they’d been in the past

Just one thing now could complete their bliss,

To each wed a guy by the name of Chris

Which totally happened, I swear that it’s true,

I’d go into detail, but that might get too blue

That’s the end of my story, and I hope you’re all awed

By Ellen, the world’s most spectacular broad.

Ells, I hope this birthday poem wasn’t a dud,

But, just in case, I also got you Paul Rudd

–Whitney