(Alt. title: The Very Certainly Pathetic Revenge of a Passive-Aggressive, Rhyming Insomniac)
Oh ye, canal, what lies below,
And pump, what lies therein;
Must you howl as though repaying
Me for some grand sin?
Did my dogs e'er leave a mark too crude?
Did my poultry tribe offend?
Did I wrong you in another life?
Will your wailing never end?
My window sits above, you know,
This ruckus echoes there.
It keeps me up! It truly sucks!
I'm pulling out my hair!
Nanny said be patient,
And mother said be kind.
But goodly thoughts are hard to keep
When going from one's mind.
I don't believe I ask too much
To spend my nights in peace.
I understand your work is tough,
But, canal pump, let me be!
For scream tomorrow in that ditch
- I'll teach you how to fly.
You've heard it said that life's a bi$@#,
But, canal pump, so am I!
*Update: The squeaky pump has been fixed! Blessed sleep! Thank you, kindly canal runner!*