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A boon to beg for;
Services please.
Psst—you may need a wrench and sledge hammer.
Delete erring capitals;
Close parentheses, do;
I want you to reshape my grammar.

Plump up the beast
That do maketh my prose;
All dangling modifiers rephrase.
Insert some Em—Dashes
Until the point glows;
One must be precise dear,
These days.

Make the beat of its heart
As strong as Macbeth’s!
Implant suitable hyphens,
And commas.
Provide plausible pauses . . .
. . . with lovely big breaths
To ensure all my fides
Are bonas.

Send all split infinitives
Fleeing in fright,
And fix healthy colons in place:
Slip a semi within
if the mood is just right.
Add apostrophes
Positioned with grace.

But hang on just a mo,
You’re too good at your job;
The words are all yours now
Not mine.
Blast all your F-stops
You effing great snob!
Only kidding dear—
Do pass the whine wine.

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