Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!
All of my poems are clamm’ring for you;
Each wants to be first with its treasure true!
They push and they shove, shout, “No cutting in line!
I was here first, and Clarinda’s mine!”
One is saying his feet are pure,
Another answers, “They stink, for sure!”
One has measures smooth and fair,
Another says, “A bit rickety there.”
One has rising, soaring words,
Another says, “Good for the birds!”
And soon, it seems, they’ll start a war
With “It is Clarinda we’re fighting for!”

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!
They try to wait, they really do,
Impatient to be read by you.
One imagines eyes so clear
He almost faints to be so near.
Another wants a title change,
So he won’t seem to be so strange;
Another wants exclamations all
So when you see him he’ll look tall.
And one, he wants no period,
Says, “I will never end, by God!”
And so they scramble to get in line,
With each declaring, “Clarinda’s mine!”