A new form? In memory of Edward Lear...


A Limerick Cycle


There was a young girl in a choir,
Harrassed by a horrible liar.
When asked had he lied,
"All the time!" she replied,
That candid young girl in a choir.

There was an old man in a tree,
As full of himself as could be.
In glorious phrases,
He sang his own praises,
That irksome old man in a tree.

There was an old man in a tree,
As full of hot air as could be.
And seldom was heard
A reliable word
From that windy old man in a tree.

There was an old man in a tree,
So full of hot air was he,
That one summer day--
He just drifted away!
So now there's no man in that tree.

There is an old man on a stump,
Complacently resting his rump.
He'd led like a thug,
And he'd lied like a rug,
That crooked old man on a stump.






Poetry by Rob Graber
Read 4 times
Written on 2026-09-10 at 18:27

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