Dear Mr. Hallmark
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I'm sending this to see
If you will read my poems
Then get back to me
My friend Spud is sure
That I'm just what you need
And though I'm still an amateur
I must confess to greed
I can't write a "tour de force"
(My talent being nil)
And I know he's ready to divorce
For my rhyming makes him ill!
So help me make this friendship grow
And add me to your ranks
Then Spud can say "I told you so"
As we carry the money to my banks!
Every man has his price, I know
At least that's what they say
But I never thought I'd stoop so low
As I have done today
For in my heart I still yearn
To write that perfect poem
But now I'll wait until I learn
If Hallmark's my new home!