On Receiving a Rejection Slip from My Publisher
Dear Sir, I feel I must request
That you should change your mind,
Concerning my poetic works,
If you should be so kind.
I offered you some poems, Sir;
In fact I tendered one,
And only asked a hundred pounds
(In Cockney slang, a ton).
Can there be a worse example of a miserly person than Scrooge McDuck. The beast who is more interested in Money than my Precious Writing.
Yet you refused to pay as much
Maintaining it’s too dear;
And so I’ve put my argument
(Or explanation) here.
My five versed poem, as you’ll see,
Is worth this asked for price,
Fives times eight-and-twenty syllables
Gives one-forty. That’s precise.
Divide the hundred pounds by that
And you’ll soon see the sense;
Each syllable’s a bargain, Sir;
Just over seventy pence.
Well, just in case you need to check
And if you calculate:
The actual cost in pounds becomes
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