|Of course I am obnoxious, you must say?|
I groom them quickly, making poets wince
My thanks to you to play with me today
These scrambled lines don’t hide my ignorance.
You test, you prod, and I do feel your blow
My coding spews it forth and makes you snore
My sonnets suffer now from you, my foe
For just that phrase, a poem is a bore.
But you intend to keep me busy now
This early version here my scripts expose
By testing depths of code until I bow
Perhaps one day my verse will smell of rose.
Requests like this do trip me, I admit,
Oh life is long for me, so I won’t quit!