an original limerick by wilburjorgeafraidya
there was once a broke lady writer from pawtucket
her chair was repo'd so she had to sit on a bucket
she licked the pen's tip but did not suck it
she wrote a book about racoon cap wearing davy crockett
the fancy critics all said we must knock it
but then the book sales took off like a rocket
and then every bookstore manager said we must stock it
the lady writer took the profits and bought a gold locket
the end
dedicated to anyonewho writes or reads anything here and because i
need to add more characters to reach the magic number of five hundred letters
the screen say for me to publish above limerick
. .
. .
As soon as she left the room, Emily pulled my head toward hers to whisper into my ear
an original limerick by wilburjorgeafraidya
there was once a broke lady writer from pawtucket
her chair was repo'd so she had to sit on a bucket
she licked the pen's tip but did not suck it
she wrote a book about racoon cap wearing davy crockett
the fancy critics all said we must knock it
but then the book sales took off like a rocket
and then every bookstore manager said we must stock it
the lady writer took the profits and bought a gold locket
the end
dedicated to anyonewho writes or reads anything here and because i
need to add more characters to reach the magic number of five hundred letters
the screen say for me to publish above limerick
. .
. .
As soon as she left the room, Emily pulled my head toward hers to whisper into my ear
an original limerick by wilburjorgeafraidya
there was once a broke lady writer from pawtucket
her chair was repo'd so she had to sit on a bucket
she licked the pen's tip but did not suck it
she wrote a book about racoon cap wearing davy crockett
the fancy critics all said we must knock it
but then the book sales took off like a rocket
and then every bookstore manager said we must stock it
the lady writer took the profits and bought a gold locket
the end
dedicated to anyonewho writes or reads anything here and because i
need to add more characters to reach the magic number of five hundred letters
the screen say for me to publish above limerick
. .
. .
As soon as she left the room, Emily pulled my head toward hers to whisper into my ear
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