I have a spelling chequer,
It came with my pea see.
It plane lee marques for my revue
Miss steaks eye cannot see.
Each thyme when eye have struck the quays
I weight for it to say
If watt I rote is wrong or rite;
It shows me strait a weigh.
As soon as a miss take is maid
It nose be four two late,
and I can put the err or write
As this rime demon straights.
I’ve run this poem threw it;
I’m shore your policed to no
It’s letter perfect in its weigh;
My chequer tolled me sew.