In 1778, a Linlithgow man sent a woman some bad poetry. She was having none of it.
An EPIGRAM. Addressed to a certain Gentleman in Linlithgow, who lately attempted to write Poetry. By a Lady.
THOU scribbling, grovelling, Grubstreet dunce,
Edinburgh Weekly Magazine, June 1778
Why thus mispend your time?
Why struggle hard (oh! vain attempt)
To grace the polish’d rhime?
Why knock your stupid, brainless skull,
And think that rhyme will come;
Knock as you will, you’ll surely find.
There’s nobody at home.