Edward Gorey was an American author and artist. His limericks were almost always clean (and spooky like his drawings.) Learn more HERE.
A gift was delivered to Laura,
From a cousin who lived in Gomorrah.
Wrapped in tissue and crêpe,
It was peeled, like a grape,
And emitted a pale, greenish aura...
Each night Father fills me with dread
When he sits at the foot of my bed;
I'd not mind that he speaks
In gibbers and squeaks,
But for seventeen years he's been dead...
The Dowager Duchess of Spout
Collapsed at the height of a rout.
She found strength to say,
As they bore her away,
"I should never have taken the trout."
Ed. note: If you understand the last line, please comment. It's eluding me...
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