… for not a limericks! I’ve written these before. Don’t know what they are? Well, that is a shame, but I’m sure you’ll figure out why they are called what they are momentarily.
There once was a shoe made of blue
That got covered in odd orange goo.
Instead of quite sad,
The owner was glad
Because he was obviously a BSU fan that had one less piece of clothing to replace before game day in order to express the maximum amount of team spirit…
A sheep from the city went walking
And felt the need to be flocking.
He wandered about
And jumped with a shout
When he saw in the distance a rather nice looking group of other sheep with which to hang.
There once was a limb on a tree,
That wiggled to get himself free.
He tried and he tried
And eventually died
And fell to the ground gleefully until he realized that he was dead and, in fact, not in a better place after all when he found himself being picked up and dragged to a fire bin to be burned in order for some children to make s’mores.
(Dear Tibbsy, this one’s for you!)
A limerick should be something bawdy,
And can often be thought of as gaudy
But to limits like these
I say, “No thank you, please!”
And I write what I want because “naughty” things tend to make me uncomfortable and to be quite honest I like the rhyme scheme of limericks more than the general content, so there.
Kristine Hamilton 
So freaking awesome!!
Limericks are written for lawls.
Want to write them? Grow some balls!
There’s humor in smut,
A fun kick in the gut.
But you know very well that I wasn’t saying that they had to be, simply that in a historical context they often were. But you knew that and you just are blowing my words out of proportion just to get my goat.
Clearly your goat I got,
Grow up and take the shot!
You give me such crap,
You deserve some back.
Besides, it was just ammunition that was too good to waste; take the compliment of me using you as inspiration and move on!
remember the days of bawdy limericks in the freshman dorm bathroom stalls?
Krissy, the words that you wield
give me no choice but to yield.
My message; the gist
Is please, don’t be pissed
Because it’s getting quite inconvenient to check my car for bombs everytime I want go somewhere.
I’m offended you think I would bomb,
That’s not creative at all!
If revenge I did seek,
You’d need more than to peek
Under your hood because, well, I still have a rather nice toothbrush shiv that needs someone to shank (thanks for that by the way).
I’m completely afraid to say
that my nerves are starting to fray.
I don’t want to fight;
you cling to your spite
and when I gave you that shiv you promised, *promised* that I would never be on its business end. You’d go back on your word like that?
There is no spite that I feel,
But, clearly you think me a heel.
My shiv will stay sheathed,
I’m sure you’re relieved.
Now off to think of something different in case I need some sort of revenge in the future.
Think that you’re a heel? You’re mad!
saying such a thing’d be bad.
I won’t live in fear
To see you step near.
Because I believe you’ll keep your Shiv promise and bring about my doom in some stylish nd subtle manner that exploits some aspect of my Psyche.