My grandfather murdered his mother

With never an if or an irk.

My uncle was wary of women.

Should I go on with my work?

The Atlantic rejected my stories.

It must have been done by a clerk.

I once found a nineteen leafed clover.

Should I go on with my work?

I've been in the dirtiest messes

With only a dirt mop and dirk.

I've lived on cheese salads in subways.

Should I go on with my work?

My father was dumb about money.

He pickled his money in a Jirkin.

He thought that a doughnut or dollar

Was good if curved like a gherkin.

My uncles, those old sons of bitches,

Were likely to leer and to smirk

As little boys minus their britches.

Should I go on with my work?

My babies are grown-up and married.

Their babies are likely to lurk

In the middle of shadows in meadows.

Should I go on with my work?

What do you think about rhyming?

Is murk with a quirk with ghurk

An idea that would get me a publisher?

Should I go on with my work?