Here's a little poem about typographical errors.
The typographical error is a slippery thing and sly;
You can hunt it ‘til you're dizzy, but it somehow will get by.
’Til the pages are off the press, it is strange how still it sleeps;
It shrinks down in a corner, and it never stirs or peeps.
That typographical error is too small for human eyes.
’Til the ink is on the paper, when it grows to mountain size.
The remainder of the issue may be as clean as clean can be;
But the typographical error is the only thing they'll see.