Ever reckon Cupid'd like the day off?

[mc_mike]

Cheers to those who've'n't forgotten me over here in my ickle corner of the earth.

Much to my chagrin, I've holes in my pockets and I've'n't an artistic bone in my body, so let's go about this the only way I know how: with a limerick.



To the Ginger-Haired Siren:

There once was this witch who knew she was fit
And would cheat every chance she knew she could get
With a flash of her leg
She'd win the whole game
And left the sods wondering with what they were hit



To the Best Looking Bloke, Second Only to Me:

An Ode to Your Life on a Farm, in Limerick form:

A farmer's young helper named Tull
Accidentally was milking a bull
The farmer said, "Yer dumb,
You done milked the wrong one!"
Said the boy, "But me whole bucket is full!"



To the Sister I Never Knew I Wanted:

She seems a feisty and confident one
Who's infatuated with her infant son
But she's a fine sight to see
When she's her true self with me
And the rest of the world's forgotten.

Comments

[ms-pansy.livejournal.com]

One day I'm going to compile all of these that you've written and publish them in a book. You are quite talented, Michael.



Thank you for that, it's really very nice of you.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_boot_terry/]

Ha! I always knew I was the best-looking bloke. Cheers.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_anthony_g/]

You reckon Cupid'd need the day off? His job sounds a tad like a breeze.

[miss-ginevra.livejournal.com]

I've'n't a single idea what you're talking about, Michael Corner. I recall that game, and I distinctly remember a gust of wind catching my robes.