Sing to me, Muse, of an epic,
Classical poem in ... limerick.
Rhyming does not diminish –
No more than a book you can’t finish –
As long as it doesn’t become mere gimmerick.
For there once was a man from Ithaca
Whose deeds could not have been more mythic-er.
He laid siege to Troy,
Telemachus was his boy,
And his wife – well, she was terrific, her.
Penelope, constant she’d stay
The whole time her husband was away:
Ten years Troy to sack,
Ten years to get back,
No wonder a hundred suitors made a play.
Classical poem in ... limerick.
Rhyming does not diminish –
No more than a book you can’t finish –
As long as it doesn’t become mere gimmerick.
For there once was a man from Ithaca
Whose deeds could not have been more mythic-er.
He laid siege to Troy,
Telemachus was his boy,
And his wife – well, she was terrific, her.
Penelope, constant she’d stay
The whole time her husband was away:
Ten years Troy to sack,
Ten years to get back,
No wonder a hundred suitors made a play.
Our story begins on a beach one fine day
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