Jan D. Hodge: Note To A Critic

A conscientious lexicographer
Defined me as a silly blahgrapher.
He said I couldn't spell, and that my grammer
Deserved a two-year sentence in the slammer,
That reading my clumsy, stumbling feet
Is like driving a pothole riddled street.
How dare he fault my innocent little verses!
May he get sick and be tended by crabby nurses!
He thinks I'm simply ignorant, I suppose,
But those aren't errors, those are typopos.