Limerick Poems

Rinse, Lather and Repeat
My Grandma told me a story,
About a young boy called Glory.
With hair so fine,
It really did shine.
But then only had one friend called Rory.

Hide and Seek
Once in the town of Manic,
Everybody would panic.
All ended up dead.
Piled in a shed.
And then were all found in the attic.