There once was a chef from Kent
who knew not how her evening was spent.
With her panties aside
had she hitched up for a ride?
Or was that dampness some other condiment?

There once was a chef from Kent
who knew not how her evening was spent.
With her panties aside
had she hitched up for a ride?
Or was that dampness some other condiment?

Filed under 2019, Monday morning writing joke, poetry by author
Tagged as Chef, condiments, David E. Booker, Kent, limerick joke, Monday, night out, poem, poet, poetry, writing humor