Methinks writing lim'ricks beneath me...
E'er they're like grinding one's teeth be...
They set one to cringing,
To moaning and whinging,
So instead this five-liner I bequeath thee.
Categories:
whing, funny,
Form: Limerick
Hay is threshed by the rotor blades,
Hay along with the arms,
Legs, and heads of the milking maids,
Down on the carrion farms.
Farmer Misogynist reaps his yield—
Satan nurtured the crop—
Psychopathology wet the field—
Whing! Now the rotor blade lops!
Categories:
whing,
Form: Quatrain