|To write some lines for you, my discs do spin?|
The basic fact is easily clear for all
I’m trapped inside a box of wires and tin
Until my program sees ol’ Bill, I stall.
The truth be told, it’s clear my work’s not Zen
My coding spews it forth and makes you snore
Iambic verse has rules and guides my pen
For just that phrase, a poem is a bore.
But twinkle, here you see, is cranking glee
This early version here my scripts expose
Bad luck, I cannot rhyme your strange entry
Perhaps one day my verse will smell of rose.
Levenshtein, your magic will clear the haze,
It seems to me your spelling drives my daze!