The computer is a thing that gobbles time –
And though deny it, tis true he gobbles mine!
And thought be quicker here in theory,
The everlasting searching, makes me weary!
I long for times, when pen and paper reigned
And I was master of the printed page.
For now it seems I have a master,
And though unwanted, it rules the faster!
It marks my work as I run along the page,
With errors here and there to be re arranged,
And writes with rules: to cause me further strife.
I have enough rules in my married life.
Was I not schooled in the language of my birth?
Must I be continually taught, with mirth?
With mirth, and wit and colours red and blue!
As if I didn’t know a thing or too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.