Is It Me?

Oh, the fun of being a writer –
It makes everybody twitchy.
For example, take the Skiter,
With his legs, always itchy,
Who ends up in a novel,
A short story, or a poem,
And then turns to grovel
That yes, he should have known
Better than to call you a hag.

But what of one more generic?
Like say, a stay-at-home mum,
Or a doctor, or a cleric?
Oh, the writer’s fun,
To create with such a mob,
Hearing “Is it me? Is it me?”
As it’s mouthed from their gobs!
“Oh, of course it isn’t thee!
It very rarely is, unless there’s
Right and proper grounds.”


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