I cannot write a poem today
Because the weather isn’t quite right
It would really be a fight
To write a poem when the weather isn’t right.

I cannot write a poem today
Because I am feeling so sore,
My back aches, hands cramp—oh mercy, no more!
Oh no, I simply cannot write with everything all sore.

I cannot write a poem today
Without my cup of tea
I’m thirsty and cross, you see,
Without my cup of tea.

I cannot write a poem today
Because the floors are creaky
And the door is drafty, and the roof—I fear—is leaky.
No, no, I cannot write today while the floors are creaky.

I cannot write a poem today
Because the mail is coming,
Surely when the doorbell rings the sound will send me running.
Oh, I cannot write a poem when the mail is coming.

I told you, and I’ll say again
Why I cannot write not now or then;
I cannot write a poem today
Because of the stormy clouds,
My body’s sore,
and without my cup of tea,
the creaky floors,
and then mail well on its way.