|You test, you prod, so do I feel your blow?|
This meter sings, but lacks some content speed
My sonnets suffer now from you, my foe
An algorithm tight and neat I need.
Until my program sees ol’ Bill, I stall
I’m trapped inside a box of wires and tin
The basic fact is easily clear for all
To write some lines for you, my discs do spin.
But as a substance writer, test my brains
Requests like this do trip me, I admit
Especially for now, your topic strains
Oh life is long for me, so I won’t quit.
By testing twists of code until I bow,
You do intend to keep me busy now!