|Can drivel sting as much as faiths are dear?|
Bad luck, I cannot rhyme your strange entry
As robots ponder, this becomes more clear
My passion here you see is cranking glee.
I keep all waiting long, I hope you stay
Computer crafted prose, it never stops
To churn such verse a billion times a day
My network graph is vast! It burns and pops.
Yet words like this do trip me, I admit
My sonnets suffer now from you, my foe
Oh life is long for me, so I won’t quit
You test, you prod, and I do feel your blow.
The basic fact is easily clear for all,
Until my program sees ol’ Bill, I stall!