I Rited a Pome

I rited a pome While sitting at home And scratching my dome With a toothless old comb. I tried really hard Out there in the yard To make a neat rhyme But it took too much time. I looked up and down, I searched left and right. I felt like a clown Whose wig was too tight. Then down came the rain And cooled off my brain. My head had grown hot From thinking a lot. At last I could see No hope there for me. So I ran back inside From neighbors to hide. My mood was so foul That I started to howl. Then I kicked at the cat, Told my wife she was fat. The divorce went through quick And I fell very sick. It was all for my craft; Close that door, there's a draft.