All gargoyles scowl. What is the matter?
These faces will not make things better.  
But gargoyles always scowl
Because their haunches howl,
And slipping off their ledge will shatter.

Too nimble for sluggards to swat
Flies will gambol when it gets hot.  
Don’t bother to flap.  
You’re too slow to slap
That buzzing, tormenting argonaut.

There once was a fella from France
Who'd dance a libidinous dance:
     He'd focus the eyes
     Of the club on his thighs,
Then dance himself out of his pants.

There once was a gal named Alvina,
A registered nurse at a gyne-
     cological practice
     Who brought in a cactus
That jumped on a naked ******.

There once was a man from Green Bay
Who made it a habit each day
     To ****** an udder
     While churning his butter,
Then go for a nap in the hay.

There was an Old Man
Of Japan
     Whose limericks would never
     Ever
Scan.

There once was a sneezer named Rose
Who'd sneeze to the tips of her toes:
    She once sneezed so heinous
    She puked out her ****
And blew out her brains through her nose.

When judging the tree by its fruits
The bamboo proponent imputes
             That this grass’s great power
             Lies not with its flower
But deep in its rhizomes and roots

The summer brings on buzzing flies.  
Those whirrings around ears and eyes
Strum lullabies that make
A sleeper **** awake
And aggravate miserable Julies.

All phrases that are pleonastic
And too redundant are bombastic.  
Verbose prolixity
Makes plodding poetry,
A sluggish, limping limerick.