Category: Limerick Friday

Miss McGovern was quick to expose,
All that would not juxtapose.
If it didn’t connect,
She proclaimed it’s defect,
Yet she daily wore non-matching clothes.

I knew a young man name of Belling
Who had so much inside worth the telling
He wrote stories of woe
How friend conquered foe
But you couldn’t read a word for his spelling

It was well known of young Franklin Puckett
He couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket
Despite this great thorn
He got him a horn
Now he boldly joins in with the tucket

Said a girl of young Roger Pretorious,
“He’s nice, but there’s nothing victorious.”
So he stepped up his game,
Until conquering came,
But she now found him much too vainglorious.

I tried to warn Eleanor Boyson,
Not to water, not even to moisten,
But she went her own way,
And now rues the day,
That she gardened in ivy of poison.

A weary old man who had far to go
found shade near a dock in New Buffalo
Upon viewing the sights
And a few local bites
Staked his claim in a tiny beach bungalow

On the morning that Harrison Sinned
He so wished he could somehow rescind
But his teacher was gripped
In the outhouse he tipped
And the whole school would suffer downwind

A burglar named Jonathon Flunder,
Strove for pilfer, pillage and plunder,
But ’twas guilty he pled,
For his craft was instead,
Filled with blooper, bungle and blunder.