Puttin’ on the Doggerel

Today’s trio of crime-fiction limericks all come from the colder, northern reaches of the United States. The first was penned by Wausau, Wisconsin, resident Karyn Powers:

As a “protag,” I favor the guy
Who wakes up with mud in his eye
And blood on his clothes from
His collar to toes
With nary a clue as to why.

Then we have two by Sandra Seamans of Northeast Pennsylvania. The first, which she warns “might be too naughty” for publication is titled “Menopausal Prostitute”:

There was an old lady from Meade
Who was tired of bending her knees.
So she got her a knife
And started to slice.
Within hours her evenings were free.

Seamans’ second entry, “Irish Blues,” begins with the line I used to head my original post about crime-fiction limericks:

There once was a gumshoe so green
That he came close to losing his spleen.
He chased down a thug
Who rearranged his mug
For the love of a winsome colleen.

Please continue to e-mail your best original limericks here.