RELUCTANT RHYMER

[An almost true tale - of a pantomime script]

“Who, me? Write a script?”, a Rhymer exclaimed.
“Oh no, I can’t - don’t be silly!”
“Oh yes, you can,” the Director replied,
His demeanour becoming quite chilly.

“”But what of the metre and what of the scan?”
That poor Rhymer babbled, scared rigid.
“Come, write, do your best, for I’ll give you no rest!”
Said the Big Boss, his tone turning frigid.

So the Rhymer gave in, and took paper, a stack,
And a verse-writing pen she could nibble,
And, sighing and moaning and groaning, began
To think (and to drink) and to scribble.

Sighed the Rhymer: “Enough! This is poor versing stuff,
And to make it a script - I’m defeated!
And it just makes it worse that I can’t write “Free Verse”,
So this Opus will not be completed!”

Then the Rhymer gave up, laid her pen down and left,
Creeping out through the door to the lobby.
Now she’s splitting big rocks with a road-mender’s drill,
Which she finds a more peaceable hobby.
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