A limerick

I don’t write them very often — the one I
like best
I posted here in 2005. But Garrison Keeler was on
the radio yesterday, and he pointed out that when he discovers a
rhyme it makes his brain light up and he needs to do something
with it, and I realized I used to be that way but I let it lapse.
So I swore that the next time I discovered a rhyme, I would write
a limerick. So I noticed one walking the dog this morning and
here’s the limerick:

Priscilla, a grey furry rat,
Had friends who thought she was too fat.
    So she ran down the street
    And tripped over her feet
And ended up totally flat.

Flat and rat isn’t a great rhyme like the ones Ira Gershwin and
Cole Porter used, but limericks don’t need a lot more than that.
I had rat and fat and street and feet by the time I got home.

My first reaction to the flat rat on Cherry Street was,
“Another flat squirrel!” because we’d seen one of those on Windsor
Street last night, but then I noticed the tail, and then I had the

[writings] Another limerick

There was a posting on the harp list this morning:

In a fit of curiosity, and as it was cheap, I purchased one of the 8
string Pakistani harp shaped objects. Now that I have satisfied
myself on several points of its utterly ludicrous design what do I do
with it? Ideas please- I have enough paperweights in my life.

That sounded like a limerick invitation, so I came up with:

Tacye's harp, which she bought on a whim,
Wouldn't play, though she plucked it with vim.
	 So she slices her bread
	 With the strings that are dead,
And her toast is now even and trim.