ODE TO THE SPELL CHECKER
Eye halve a spelling chequer, it came with my pea sea,
It plainly marques four my revue, miss steaks eye kin knot
sea.
Eye strike a key and type a word and weight four it two say,
Weather eye am wrong oar write it shows me strait a weigh.
As soon as a mist ache is maid, it nose bee fore two long,
and eye can put the error rite, its rare lea ever wrong.
Eye have run this poem threw it, I am shore your pleased to
no,
its letter perfect awl the weigh, My chequer tolled me sew.