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Poem
There was a young lassie named Heather,
Who played on the beach in hot weather,
She thought it a sin,
Just dressed in her skin,
So covered herself with three feathers.

II

Remember the beach-babe named Heather?
Who covered herself in three feathers?
The boys were aware,
And started to stare,
So now she wears tight shiny leather.

The following is not a limerick, but it continues the story of Heather's Feathers

III

‘Twas a fine use of leather,
On our girl named Heather,
For the boys had to be on a tether.
But leather made Heather
Break out in hot weather,
So now she is back to the feathers.

Now, back to the limericks

IV

Our sweet northern princess named Heather,
Is hooked on a new kind of feather,
It is not from a moose,
It’s Canadian Goose,
So cozy in all kinds of weather.

V

Our Canadian Heather’s a Newfy,
Which to most of us sounds kind of goofy,
But to those from the “Rock”,
She’s the belle of the docks,
With her feathers all ruffled and poofy.

VI

Our Heather has moved to the prairies,
She’s tired of travelling on ferries,
She’s now wearing loafers
And chasing poor gophers,
Which makes her all sweaty and weary.

And now for the conclusion to our story (in rhyme)

VII

Oh, Heather, dear Heather,
What became of your feather,
The last one you had left to dance in,
For the two had been sold,
As the story was told*,
And the last one was held up for ransom.

Some bikers in leather,
Kidnapped our dear heather,
And wanted ten grand to return her,
Let there be no mistake,
She's a lovely 'cheesecake',
But I haven't the money to earn her.

So I made up a plan,
'Twas a bit of a scam,
When I told them I'd pay for my Heather,
So it must have been fate,
When I broke down their gate,
Took my Heather and left them the feather.

Now I have my dear Heather,
Who is plucked of her feather,
And I haven't the money to buy one,
But she says it's okay,
Says she likes it this way,
For the boys in town call her 'The Nude One'.

*That's another story for another time.
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