An apple a day, / Granny Smith used to say, / Would keep the doctor away. / It was a terrible loss / When she fell under a hoss / And was hooved into Granny Smith Sauce.
(I know it’s not a limerick, so my apologies to one and all. But if it got a smile, then I am content.)
He once painted a girl on a triclinia / That was considered somewhat obscene-a / By the elite of his day. / But I have to say, / One of my favorites is his Olympia. ;>)
Of all the follies and foibles of Man, / There is not one more foolish than / The One who thinks that / He or She owns a cat. / (The cat permits this only because a cat can’t open a can!)
Monsieur Gerôme is bit of sap / Having his model almost in his lap! / When posing sans clothes / Being sculpted so close / Risks getting grit in her “Venus Fly Trap.” 8>)
It doesn’t always have to be a limerick. Who knew? / That’s now the unfortunate Bookworm’s view. / I mean he struggles with rhyme, / Never mind the scansion and time! / Ah, he’ll just leave it Ish, that’s the smart thing to do.
Thank you my good friend. As Mark Twain once observed, “the details of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” Even so, it’s good to be seen. (Much better than being “viewed,” at any rate.)
An apple a day, / Granny Smith used to say, / Would keep the doctor away. / It was a terrible loss / When she fell under a hoss / And was hooved into Granny Smith Sauce.
(I know it’s not a limerick, so my apologies to one and all. But if it got a smile, then I am content.)