A collection of childrenís limericks
My dog is a masochist cannibal.
His cruelty challenges Hannibal.
He turns like a gale,
with subsequent wails,
For his tale is caught in his mandible.
Balloons are not for consumption.
For even, if possessing the gumption,
One were to try oneís best
To try and digest
The rubber - itís still not itís function.
The spinach monster is alarm-ful.
It parades as something more charm-ful
In noodles and pies.
But I tell you - itís lies!
And my mother says lying is harmful.
I wake up every morning... at some point.
I am glad it is rarely at gun-point.
Life is simpler when.
Your nine almost ten.
We all want to have our freedumb. Point.