The publisher wished it were Sunday
Most everything goes wrong on Monday!
Palms clammy, face blood red, and hissing
She hated when a page went missing

Up high she searched, down low she hunted
While grumpily she grouched and grunted
All productivity dismissing
Because that pesky page went missing

Her boyfriend called, “Come smooch me, Honey!”
She really didn’t find that funny
How could she ever think of kissing
Still knowing that a page was missing

She had two hours to meet her deadline
Or “Hanged At Work” would be the headline
Her boss, at very least, dismissing
The one who let the page go missing

She longed to cry the word “Eureka!”
But chances of success grew bleaker
Her prized career prejudicing
’Cause just one poxy page went missing

From “Chryme and Punishment”