O thin fine line of bright blue ink,
you're supposed to flow as I think,
Why ever ye not follow my command,
for this I must ye reprimand.
I try to move you up and back,
you disobey, you go this way and that.
When I do decide to cap your vessel,
you, invariably, begin to rebel.
What shall I ever do with you,
always have your way with me, you ink blue.