Oh, and they’re also probably better than Jane’s (lie).

O Peter, of Wurmple

O Peter, of Wurmple, was a very funny man
He would walk on his ears with his head in a pan
And all nose-over-toes whenever he ran
O Peter, of Wurmple, was a very funny man

O Peter, of Wurmple, was a very loud man
He would roar like a fish whenever he swam
And once screamed bloody murder while stealing a fan
O Peter, of Wurmple, was a very loud man

O Peter, of Wurmple, is a very dead man
He wears polka-dot socks he took from a Ma’am
And lies in his coffin a Tom, Jerry, or Sam
O Peter, of Wurmple, is a very dead man.

The Whip

There once was a very strange whip

That would smack like the crack of a lip

The thing that was happening

Is called St. Douglas whacking

And with that I end this limerick

Reality

When you wish upon a star

You trust in something very far

A planet not unlike our own

That circles slowly, all alone

The Pig

’twas a very strange pig that was born one day

Coughing up lice it had eaten in the hay

And riding on a cow while eating a saddle

Even trees in front of it jumped out of the way

Five days later on the eighth of May

In the field where a child would play

A fox with hunger-so much he would waddle

Leapt out of a bush and began to bray

Like a donkey the farmer wanted to slay

And crying “All sheep, all pigs, all the soufflé’!”

Leapt out of window and started a battle 

With the fox who was in a cafe

The fox with a whip the dog did flay

And single-handedly destroyed the fray

No animal wanted to with the fox rattle

All except for the pig, who rode a sleigh

Sixteen birds that were with age grey

Drew the pig close to his prey

That shuddered and began to prattle

“I didn’t mean it-is your name Jose?”

The pig single-handedly destroyed the menace

And threw him bodily into the fence

The fox did burst and scream with a sprattle 

And the pig did win and was king forth-hence