If even considered poetry, it's the black sheep. Can't help it, I just find them fun.
A macho young swimmer named Dwyer,
Really liked playing with fire.
One night in the dark
He swam with a shark,
And his voice is now two octaves higher.
The limerick is furtive and mean
You must keep her in close quarantine
Or she sneaks to the slums
And promptly becomes
Disorderly, drunk and obscene.
I used to love writing them as a kid. They were all nonsense, but I liked the pattern of rhyming. I found some online by a guy named Edward Lear, and he wrote a ton of them. But he cheated. They all contain the same last word in the first and fifth lines. Not okay with me.
The last line of this one reminds me of me.
There was a young fellow who thought
Very little, but thought it a lot.
Then at long last he knew
What he wanted to do,
But before he could start, he forgot.
Thank You, Lord, for fun, frivolous stuff.
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