THE SPELLING CHEQUER
(or Poet Tree Without Mist Aches)

I have a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marks four my revue
Miss steaks eye cannot sea

Each thyme hive struck the quays
I weight for it two say
If watt eye rote is wrong or write
It shows me strait a weigh

As soon as a missed ache is maid
It nose bee fore two late
And eye can put the error write
Now eye shall find that grate

Hive run this poem threw it
I'm shore policed to no
It's letter perfect in its weigh
My chequer told me sew.