It’s limericks, slick limericks that make my day;
the limerick’s rhyme scheme’s A-A-B-B-A.
It’s limericks, nix-lickerish, that I pursue.
The subject matter I’ll soon reveal to you.
Before it’s written,
more verses a few.

As for the form, it ain’t exactly young;
together such lines, over years, have been strung.
It is often fun that these verses poke.
They’re not serious…just a metrical joke.

It’s limericks, trick limericks with which I play
within the rhyme scheme of A-A-B-B-A.
It’s limericks, nix-lubricious, that I pursue.
Nantucket’s the subject of one that I’ll do.

Most limericks tend to be rancid, crude,
and oftentimes these rhymes can be rather rude.

Limericks live in linguistic-tricks world;
it ain’t antiseptic, the shtik that’s unfurled.
I’m told that they can make some folks uptight…
must admit, their content’s rarely upright—
I’ll stop kibitzing now…sit, quicken to write.

“There once was a man from Nantucket,” the first line.
“He drank too much ale from a bucket”—that rhymes!
“While wiping his chin,
He said with a grin”—and then:
“I fear I’ll heave; hope you can duck it!”
The end.