The bad news is, that quite by chance,
I’d picked up a Toblin,
And they can be more trouble,
Than any imp or goblin.
In the deep, dark depths of night,
When everyone is sleeping,
Stealthily and silently,
The Toblin comes a-creeping.
He tiptoes up the staircase,
Then, fleet of foot, he dashes,
Straight to the computer,
Which he subsequently trashes.
He breaks the glass in Windows 10,
Then barges into Word,
Where he messes with the menus,
And makes it look absurd.
He hacks into my website,
Of that I'm pretty sure,
I wouldn't be surprised to find,
He's booked a guided tour.
Somehow, very sneakily,
The Toblin's gone to ground,.
All I can do, is stay alert
And hope that he'll be found
It's just been reported,
That the culprit has been seen,
And he's acquired a henchman,
Whatever could this mean?
There suddenly came over me,
An awful, sinking feeling,
For I was sure then, that I knew,
With whom we were now dealing.
I reckoned that the Toblin,
Had formed a bold alliance,
With another miscreant
In an act of sheer defiance.
I'd worked out the identity,
Of the Toblin's mystery minion,
Twas 'Spell Check', my tormentor,
Well, that was my opinion.
My old bête noire, my nemesis,
Who'd purposefully smashed,
My phonological syntax,
'Til my grammar was all mashed.
He'd split all the infinitives,
And wrecked the punctuation,
That I'd carefully inserted,
With studious dedication.
Should you traverse my website,
Whatever else you do,
Steer clear of those two hobbledehoys ,
They're fiendish, through and through.
Maggie Smart
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