Every other day I receive a Dear John letter
And things don’t seem to be getting any better
It’s not the kind of letter you have in mind
In short it’s worse, it’s really a crime
You see, I’ve been rejected again and again
So how in the world should I find time to defend?
My Novel, it’s bound to touch somebody’s heart
So why do I complain from the start?
Cause this is the 20th Dear John I have received
How did my story angle get rejected, I grieve
Could my heroine have been more mysterious?
My hero so in love that he’s delirious?
Just what do these editors want anyway?
When my book gets published they’ll rue the day
They passed my novel up without recourse
Perhaps self-publishing is the course
To take, at least for now before I break
Let me see my novel in print for goodness sake
I’ve enough Dear Johns to plaster the walls
My vim and vigor has been untimely stalled.