Shakespeare is twitching.

Thou instrument of usefulness and grace
With shining silver jaw and pointed fang;
A set of plastic wings doth frame thy face
For when the stapler snarls, and with a bang
Descends in error on a sheaf of white-
'Tis thy divine and destined call to leap
With great aplomb, and not without a fight
Enclose the errant rogue and firmly keep
That staple locked within thy stainless trap.
And with a wrench, the tiny metal strip
Shall bend, and from firm moorings, with a snap
Be reft, thus dangling from our hero's lip.
For thee, my servant with thy teeth of steel,
This verse cannot contain the love I feel.