Note: On my “About Me” page I told of how I needed to come up with a gift for a friend’s birthday. This week’s posting is that gift, a limerick (complete with a hint of the risqué) I wrote for her—and the writing endeavor that started it all.
To My Friend P. On Her Birthday
An aging old rooster named Chuck
Complained to his hen, with a cluck,
“My eyes have crow’s feet,
And some days I’m so beat,
I’d swear I’d been hit by a truck!
“Nowadays I waddle like a duck,
So my bum could use a nip-tuck.
My drumsticks are weak;
They’re starting to creak
And my once proud plume drags in the muck.
“My cholesterol is running amok,
My get-up and go is on ‘stuck.’
My cockscomb’s a-droop,
My pep’s flown the coop.
Getting old is starting to suck!”
His sad words the hen’s heartstrings did pluck.
She said, “Dear, old age has both of us struck.
But your cock-a-doodle-doo
Makes my giblets go, ‘Yahoo!’
Life with you—I can’t believe my good luck!”
Happy Birthday to a Great Chick!
©2006 The Wit’s End Scribbler