It takes no skill to write a sonnet --
                                          If one's thoughts are duly on it.
                                          (Just this evening, in mid-tread,
                                          A couplet popped into my head:
                                          "Ah! these are the greatest lines
                                          To any scripture yet contrived!"
                                          I murmured to my self in glee;
                                          For I have had ill luck, you see,
                                          These months gone by, to write a thing
                                          That close reflects my own feeling.)
                                          The middle's got me in a bind --
                                          I've got the start; the end's in mind --
                                          And I but want some fuelling wit
                                          To write the part that needs be writ.
                                          Dear me! while in my thoughts I delved
                                          This poem's gone and wrote itself!
                                          And I need now but add the end
                                          (The couplet that I thought so grand).
                                          And so, to beg your kind indulgence --
                                          La pièce de résistance: --
                                          Shit!  Now where'd I write it down?
                                          Screw it all - I'm going home!