Lazy Limericks

There once was a poet named David.

Night and day, on this blog, he slave-id.

But one Saturday, hazy,

He felt rather lazy,

So to the temptation of limericks he cave-id.


Alas, he still had no ideas.

This was one of his great fea’s!

Poems aren’t noisy.

He spelled fear like a guy from New Joisey,

And he screwed up his meter/shed tea’s.


And thus I do finish this post.

It has few worthy features to boast.

But I’m tired and stuff,

And this is probably enough,

So dear reader, these limericks are toast!

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