Crusty Old Hag
There once was a crusty old hag
whose poetry made people gag.
She once wrote a sonnet,
the folks threw up on it
and tossed it away in a bag.
She went to a psychic who said,
while turning up cards black and red,
“I can see why they gripe,
just stop writing this tripe.
Have you thought of knitting instead?”
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