My taxes done, I'd gone to pad my file
with copies of my Federal return.
But halfway through the forms that made my pile,
the feeder jammed and I began to burn.
Yes, once again the copier was down,
its functions stopped, the scanner wouldn't move,
because some goof, poltroon (that's right: a clown)
a paper clip neglected to remove.
With burning breast I clench a fist in rage,
as shredded bits of labor I retrieve.
What once were careful sums and printed page
now in the nearby trashbin I must leave.
A frantic call relieved that gnawing pain -
my guy at Block has saved the day again!
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