An Ode to a Spell-Checker
An Ode to a Spell-Checker
I have a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye can knot sea. When eye strike a quay, ore right a word
Eye weight four it two say
weather eye am wrong oar write
It shows me strait aweigh.As soon as a mist ache is maid
It nose bee fore two late
And eye can put the error rite
It’s rarely rarely grate.
I’ve run this poem threw it
I’m shore yore pleased in its weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.
— Sauce unknown
