There once was a woman from Vail
Who had a small item for sale
So she wrote an ad
To describe what she had
And ended up going to jail

There once was a man they called Jim
Who always went out on a limb
Anytime he was caught
In a window. He thought
he could claim that it needed a trim

Jim and the woman from Vail
Met while they both were in jail
He wasn’t free
And she had no tree
So that was the end of that tale.


There once was a lady named Joyce
Who had a spectacular voice
Wherever she went
A crowd pitched a tent
She was soon able to buy a Rolls Royce

She met James, a big fan, while on tour
His voice inspired thoughts quite impure
He was a sweet talker
Who became her stalker
He was one handsome man, to be sure

When he showed up in Rome, she was flattered
When in Paris, she felt that she mattered
But it wasn’t until
He showed up on her sill
That her illusions were finally shattered

She would not give her public the power
To force her to live in a tower
She made a choice
And now uses her voice
To yodel and sing in the shower


There once was a lady named Alice
Whose heart was a hotbed of malice
She planned and she plotted
And with revenge was besotted
She drank bile from a poisonous chalice

Her hobbies were gossip and lying 
For the top spot she always was vying
She also liked kissing
But a partner was missing
Which was the root of all Alice’s crying 

A lad they called Henry took pity  
On  Alice, whom he found rather witty
He learned not too late 
Of her penchant for hate
And fled even though she was pretty    

I’ll call you, he said, late next week
She waited with knees that were weak
While he made a plan
To shorten the span 
Of a life he was sure would be bleak

Of course it was all a big joke
That he arranged with the help of a bloke
To give her a taste
Of her own toxic waste
Using ketchup and mirrors and smoke

He arranged a spectacular date
And requested that she not be late
But when she arrived
She found he wasn’t alive
And fell weeping and cursing her fate

She read the note on his body clear through 
And at last she finally knew  
That she had been wrong
To be mean for so long
“I would rather have died than have kissed you”   

It has recently come to my attention that Limericks aren’t supposed to be long stories. Oopsy daisy.    

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