If haikus and limericks fought
(I think) It would all be for nought.
The puns would butt in
Common sense would wear thin
and yet we won't do as we ought.
When putting it up for the night
one resists the strong urge to fight.
Instead one will stroke
and forgo the poke
And then pray the thing stays out of sight.
The once was a cat from Gibralter
who wouldn't wear his ill-fitting halter
He flopped on the groun'
And said with a frown
"Just wait 'til I get out of this, Walter!'
The chickens, the pigs, and the goats,
Had a race one day in their boats;
They arrived on the shore
And argued the score
while away the trophy did float.
There once was a pretty girl from clare,
who was tragically lacking in hair
she was bald as an egg
Just two hairs on her leg
but she was sexy so we didn't care.
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