Some of you may have noticed the fact that I have devolved from writing sonnets lately, to indulging in limerick writing. It’s probably just a phase.
Enjoy.
Some of you may have noticed the fact that I have devolved from writing sonnets lately, to indulging in limerick writing. It’s probably just a phase.
Enjoy.
· By the scout camp a river ran near Where girls skinny-dipped without fear Two scouts on a hike One Fred and one Mike Climbed a rock: “You can see ‘em from here!”
Green bud can make smoke bluish-gray Just inhale and then blow it away Your head will be clear And you won’t need to hear The stuff stuffy people will say.
There once was a dumb dog that tried On the back of a farm goat to ride The goat jumped and bucked ‘Til the doggy got chucked So a rodeo might be implied.
There once was a cherub, undressed Who did what he always thought best He climbed up a tree And leaned in to see The music that came from the nest!
There once was a dragon named Jack With spikes in a ridge down his back He chomped down a horse That was ridden, of course By a knight that he saved for a snack
There was a young farmer named Bliss Pursued by a pretty young miss Though he pined for the field He at last had to yield She grabbed him and gave him a kiss.
His wife made a fire for heat But still they had nothing to eat So he traded his shoes For flour to use And then he walked home with bare feet