To My Friend P. On Her Birthday

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

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