There once was a writer from Maine
Whom everybody thought was insane.
He wrote big books on evil
and owned pet boll weevil.
No one could cotton to him or complain.
There once was a writer from Maine
Whom everybody thought was insane.
He wrote big books on evil
and owned pet boll weevil.
No one could cotton to him or complain.
Filed under 2020, Monday morning writing joke, Poetry by David E. Booker
Tagged as boll weevil, David E. Booker, evil, joke, limerick, Maine, Monday, poem, poetry, pun, writer, writing humor