An ode to the unscrupled #@!?%&*^$ who keeps running off with our pencil.

Pencil thief, pencil thief, why do you steal?
Three pencils gone, yet still you have zeal!
Backups delayed, notes never made: Reveal,
unknown pencil thief, can you not feel?

Even if stealing were noble and good,
what could you get for just graphite and wood?
Not nearly enough, you cheap two-bit hood,
so please let the pencil remain where it should.

(Background: In the machine room downstairs at work, we have a pencil we keep next to our main server for labeling backups on our machines, and taking notes in case of system problems. We share that room with other departments, so sometimes our pencil gets stolen. After the third time of having to walk all the way up three flights of stairs to get a new pencil and sharpen it, I wrote this poem to use as the sign to keep people from stealing our pencil. It didn't help.)