|Do early templates here my scripts expose?|
Levenshtein, your magic will clear the haze
Perhaps one day my verse will smell of rose
It seems to me your spelling drives my daze.
This form of verse is hard to write with grace
My coding spews it forth and makes you snore
I look to Bill for rules or I’ll lose face
For just that phrase, a poem is a bore.
But wait, iambic rules do guide my pen
Oh life is long for me, so I won’t quit
The truth be told, it’s clear my work’s not Zen
Requests like this do trip me, I admit.
I render now the fact, I’m just a bot,
Okay, the truth is harsh, I kid you not!