The rhymes that I pen they just jingle along
And when I am rhyming my heart is on song
I write for the love of it not for wealth or fame
In the literary World mine's not a known name
One could say I have written a whole heap of stuff
The sort that the critics refer to as rough
They dismiss as doggerel the stuff that does rhyme
As writing that belong to another time
What others think of me is their business not mine
As the tag of poetaster it does suit me fine
But to those who tell me to give penning away
That's my business not yours to them I do say
And if I said I'll quit writing that would be a lie
As I will be penning stuff till the day that I die.
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