Pickled

Pat loved pickled onions,
She ate them every day,
She had an addiction,
That kept her friends at bay.

Pat ate them in the mornings,
And every single night.
She did not smoke cigarettes,
As she might set herself alight.

Pat did not swallow pills,
Or narcotics of any kind
She was seldom ill
And she possessed a sound mind.

Pat did not overeat,
Or drink wine or beer at all,
Pickled onions were her passion,
Which led to Pat's downfall!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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M  Avatar
September 2, 2022 at 10:13 AM
Shirley you are so funny! Love this pickled poem so cleverly written….Debx
Leffanta Avatar
August 31, 2022 at 11:28 AM
Enjoyed! Aloha!
Hawkins Avatar
August 31, 2022 at 3:57 PM
G'day, Rico Thank you, I am pleased you enjoyed the rhyme. Thank you also for your advice; it was appreciated. Take care. Shirley
Wolf Avatar
August 30, 2022 at 9:25 PM
Was Pickled Pat pregnant?! lol. ~ Breath Reeking; Onions Leaking
Wolf Avatar
September 6, 2022 at 9:27 PM
Wallies?! A new one for me, for sure... ~ Wally Cleaver
Hawkins Avatar
August 31, 2022 at 4:26 PM
Breath Reeking; Onions Leaking; Ha! Ha! I don't think pregnancy would be the reason for her addiction to pickles. (although it was mine, not pickled onions but "Wallies." pickled cucumbers)
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