It's impossibly ugly this sweater,

But I wear it each week, no matter the weather

It was handmade for me by my grandmother

You could try and never find it, there is simply no other

It's been dearly loved, worn in scorching hots and frigid colds

If you listen closely, you'd see the memories it holds

So maybe it's ugly, maybe you'd call it an eye sore

But I really don't care, I couldn't cherish it more

It's been a proud constant for me through blood, sweat, and tears

And it'll accompany me, week by week, for many more years