It’s a few days before Christmas

And all through the office

My panic is rising

For the end of year crisis

The tax year will end

Ten-99s will be due

It’s left up to me

Though my bookkeeping’s askew

 How dreadful the tedium of all these foul numbers

They romp and they jump and they run and they fumble

On W-2s, on W-3s, on K-3s and KCS-100s

On 9-forties, on ten-forties, on ten-96s, on ten-99NECs,

My rhyming is over

Depression’s set in

I’ll let you know if I survive

By maybe May 10

This ditty is dismal

It gives you to know

Why CPAs and accountants

Never write poems