Once upon a deadline near-y, while I scribbled, tired and bleary
Upon many a blank and vacant page, the objects of my numbing chore
While I fretted, nearly freaking, suddenly there came a creaking
Through the room and softly speaking, speaking criticisms galore
“It’s just my stupid bird,” I groaned, “speaking criticisms galore.”
“You’re not funny anymore.”
Once upon a deadline near-y, while I scribbled, tired and bleary
Upon many a blank and vacant page, the objects of my numbing chore
While I fretted, nearly freaking, suddenly there came a creaking
Through the room and softly speaking, speaking criticisms galore
“It’s just my stupid bird,” I groaned, “speaking criticisms galore.”
“You’re not funny anymore.”