Get off! get off! stop gripping me,
You awful bug just let me be.
I’ve got a lot of work to do;
Can’t even speak because of you.
But Heather I just want to know
How to make my poems flow
I can think of all the rhymes
but can’t make them scan at all at any times.
So that’s why you been hanging round
Stopping me from feeling sound
I’m telling you this has to stop
I won’t give you a free work-shop.
I’m not sure that you made that scan
I don’t think this is going to plan
Perhaps instead of making mine right
I’ve on your poems put a blight
Oh no! My poetry’s gone to pot
because of this terrible bug wot I’ve got
My scansion’s gone all over the place
And my rhyming isn’t any good either
Well this is pointless isn’t it
You can’t teach me if you’re not fit
I need to do what’s best for me.......
I’ll try infecting Emma P