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“Printer’s Error” by P G Wodehouse:

As o’er my latest book I pored,

Enjoying it immensely

I suddenly exclaimed ‘Good Lord!’

And gripped the volume tensely.

‘Golly!’ I cried. I writhed in pain

‘They’ve done it on me once again!’

And furrows creased my brow.

I’d written (which I thought quite good)

‘Ruth, ripening into womenhood,

Was now a girl who knocked men flat

And frequently got whistled at,’

And some vile, careless, casual gook

Had spoiled the best thing in the book

By printing ‘not’ (Yes ‘not’. great Scott!)

When I had written ‘now’.

On murder in the first degree

The Law, I knew, is rigid:

Its attitude, if A kills B,

To A is always frigid.

It counts it not a trivial slip

If on behalf of authorship

You liquidate compositors

This kind of conduct it abhors

And seldom will allow.

Nevertheless, I deemed it best

And in the public interest

To buy a gun, to oil it well,

Inserting what is called a shell,

And go and pot

With sudden shot

This printer who had printed “not”

When I had written “now”.

I tracked the bounder to his den

Through private information:

I said ‘Good afternoon’ and then

Explained the situation:

‘I’m not a fussy man,’ I said

‘I smile when you put “rid” for “red”

And “bad” for “bed” and “hoad” for “head”

And “bolge” instead of “bough”.

When “wone” appears instead of “wine”

Or if you alter “Cohn” to “Schine”,

I never make a row.

I know how easy errors are.

But this time you have gone too far

By printing “not” when you knew what

I really wrote was “now”.

‘Prepare,’ I said, ‘to meet your God

Or, as you’d say your Goo or Bod

Or possibly your Gow.’

A few weeks later into court

I came to stand my trial.

The judge was quite a decent sort,

He said ‘Well cocky, I’ll

Be passing sentence in a jiff,

And so, my poor unhappy stiff,

If you have anyhing to say

Now is the moment.

Fire away.

You have?’

I said ‘And how!

Me lud, the facts I don’t dispute.

I did, I own it freely, shoot

This printer through the collar stud.

What else could I have done, me lud?

He’d printed “not”...’

The judge said ‘What!

When you had written “now”?

God bless my soul!

Gadzooks!’ said he.

'The blighters once did that to me.

A dirty trick, I trow

I hereby quash and override

The jury’s verdict. Gosh!’ he cried.

‘Give me your hand.

Yes I insist, You splendid fellow!

Case dismissed.’

(Cheers, and a Voice ‘Wow-wow!’)

A statue stands against the sky,

Lifelike and rather pretty.

'Twas recently erected by

The PEN committee.

And many a passer-by is stirred,

For on the plinth, if that’s the word,

In golden letters you may read

‘This is the man who did the deed.

His hand set to the plough,

He did not sheathe the sword, but got

A gun at great expense and shot

The human blot who’d printed “not”

When he had written “now”.

He acted with no thought of self,

Not for advancement, not for pelf,

But just because it made him hot

To think the man had printed “not”

When he had written “now”.’