There once was a poet named Stu,
he would write 'til his fingers turned blue.
When he searched for a rhyme
he committed a crime,
...
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There was a young lady called liz whose limerick was lacking in fizz So she whipped out her pen And said once again Dear Herbert your Limericks the biz.
There was an Oz poet named Herbert whose limerick source had been severed so he wheeled out his own to an obsence of groans Now we all think old Herbert is clever
We've had our concerns about words Whose meanings have flown with the birds So, I'll offer this truce For my phrasing abstruse To be sealed by the sheathing of swords