I have a spelling chequer

it came with my pea sea

It plainly marques four my revue

miss steaks eye cannot sea

When eye strike a quay ,right a word

I weight four it two say

weather eye am wrung oar write

it shows me strait aweigh

As soon as a mist ache is maid

eye nose bee fore two late

And eye can putt the error rite

Its rarely rarely grate

I've run this poem threw it

I'm shore your pleased two no

it's letter perfect in its weigh

My chequer tolled me sew

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