It’s the beginning of a new week. Let’s make it a good one. Here’s a fresh limerick challenge for you. Your word this week is:
DUDE
Last week’s prompt was EGGS. You came up with some eggsellent (sorry, couldn’t resist!) limericks:
Your eggs should be fresh, at the least
‘cept the curate’s (or was it a priest)
On a similar stance
There’s a saying in France
That un oeuf is as good as a feast.
Eggs benedict, said the waiter
Placing a dish, her needs to cater.
On no! wailed the woman
So the maitre de was summoned
It’s Benedict Cumberbatch I wait for!
A man who lived in the dregs
Lived on whatever he begs.
One day in his bowl
A thrill to his soul.
Was found some ham and two eggs.
There is a story of chickens to be told
A real puzzler , if I may be bold
Were eggs the first
Or the reverse
And what’s that have to do with crossing the road?
–
There once was a man named Muzzin
Who was Big Bob’s second cousin
With an eye for a sale
Beyond the pale
He sold eggs twenty bucks a dozen.
There once were three eggs in a net
and a math guy who thought he might get
a full count of the lot.
“One, two, three’s all I’ve got.”
And his proof stood till breakfast was set.
The old lady harvests eggs each day
While her hens at seed peck away.
In hand right now, only four (?!)
With hopes tomorrow they’ll lay more,
While the goats watch on, munching hay.
Eggs, eggs, lovely fruit of the hen
Laid in a nest in a cage or a bin
An egg of course is not a doughnut
It’s true an egg comes out of a … but
Make sure it’s not fertile before you begin.
Eggs is eggs so I’ve been told,
Boiled or poached, hot or cold,
Until one was served sunny side up
In front of his mates without a cup,
A sorry sight indeed to behold.
Olaf Sturlasson’s Poetry Corner:
If eggs grew legs they’d walk about
And all the people they would shout
Stop those eggs
And cut of their legs
For it is nature they do flout.
Joey never missed eating eggs
He thought they were the breakfast dregs
Now with prices too high
Never caused him to sigh
He preferred eating just the legs.
To market with her basket of eggs.
Oops, she trips and upends her legs.
But all was not lost,
She covered the cost,
Next day, with a basket of pegs.
Wilf Leahy:
Know why my wife could catch me
And kick me with her strong legs
I caught her eating extra eggs.
For some reason Annette Rochelle Aben‘s link didn’t work last week so we missed out on her great limerick on the prompt RAGE. Here it is:
Oh, girl, he’s all the rage
There, dancing in that cage
Dear me, I’m darn near broke
Tossing bills at this bloke
At his feet on that stage.
***
Image credit: Pixels.com
Esther Chilton 
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