She doesn't care for my bow legged walk
Nor can she stand my nasal twange talk
She doesn't like much of anything
That she has found out about me

She doesn't like my cackling laugh
Or my toothless smiles in photographs
There is not an awful lot
That she likes of what I've got

She really hates my funky smell
The long drawn out stories that I tell
And the company that I keep
She likes even less than me

She doesn't like me for who I am
I think I'm the only one she can't stand
The very sight of me makes her ill
There is no cure, there is no pill

I've come to the conclusion
It's plain to see
I don't think she really likes me