I heard of a man who called himself the Cramp.
He was of a miniature stature; like a postage stamp.
Cramp came from the east and set in the west.
And at night he came from who knows where;
Wandering two and fro, from here to there.
From the dusk and the dew they said he wasn't a guest
For somehow from the North and South was herd he was but a pest
So they sent him off his merry way, making plans to lead someone astray
Tonight was the night that he planned to stop by
And make people miserable and characters die
Oh this evening he tried
He even made copies of himself and sold it online
Cheap was he with his skillful crime
Come one Come all
Proudly portraying the face of a dime
But let me tell you right here right now
Today is not the Cramps day to play
We writers a goal minded, oriented and set
No need for the Cramp to be some petty theft
Onward for he is no match to our meet.
Shall we say bon voyage!
No til we meet again,
A writers cramp has not begun!
We have passed this stage and we had our fun!
Time to submit, for time is almost gone!
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