Whit looked upon, with growing fright
As summer came a’knocking
Ellen’s birthday poem she soon must write,
Or the gossip t’would be shocking
But how capture, with word or rhyme,
A woman quite like Ellen?
To undersell would be a crime,
And Whitney would turn felon
So Whit, sunk low with writers woes,
Did aught she knew to do
She turned to Ellen’s TV beaus
In hopes they’d have a clue
The Duke was first up to the bat
His time for service came
But all he could do was smoulder at
Mere mention of Ellen’s name
Roy Kent was next, fresh from the pitch
With sex appeal to spare
But Ellen had him so bewitched
He turned into a square
For Jamie, Whitney’s hopes were higher,
But all he could do was sing
To a seagull on a tire
And sand with his toes did fling
Whitney cried up to the sky
“Oh what am I to do?
I need a helpful TV guy
And I’ve talked to quite a few!”
Ted Lasso had a clever scheme,
When he heard Whit’s mournful prayer
“Let Ellen know you’re on her team,
Just tell her that you care.”
“Oh, shut up Ted!” Our Whitney said,
And turned to the Mischief God
“Help me, Loki,” she desperately plead,
“I need to wow this broad!”
He said, “This time I think I must assent,
With that gleeful mustache, there
Your answer isn’t a TV gent
But the love you and Ellen share.”
So here’s my birthday wish to you
Dear Ellen, friend and cousin,
I hope your birthday dreams come true
By the bakers dozen
I hope it’s clear to you by now,
I don’t write this on a whim
I had a need to tell you how
You’re the double Chim Chim
Love, Whitney
Fangirly 