Lymerick

There was a chap who met an early end
He prayed for up but instead did descend
An exclusive club
With Beelzebub
It turned out the devil was his best friend

Down in hell where the poetry’s deep
Halloween is the way you can keep
Something else on your mind,
Let your demons unwind
Till the dawn tells your demons to sleep.

Down he went through the circles of hell
A lonely church bell rang his death knell
Virgil his guide
Beatrice his bride
Always thinking, now ain't this just swell

Deep in hell where the evil folk dwell
Beatrice thought she caught a foul smell
Like a fart, maybe worse.
Dante blushed, but his verse
Didn’t show what he’d rather not tell.

Beatrice bid the two a quick farewell
When faced with Virgil's unholy smell
It was our flatus
That made her hate us
Said Virg' who had no choice but to expel

Some ladies enjoy a fine fart
And giggle to please a man’s heart.
Beatrice wasn’t one.
When the farting was done
Even demons wished they could depart.

Beautiful Beatrice bid them both cheerio
As Virg' and D' were tooting in stereo
The demons jaws clicked
And Hell's flames licked
A methane cloud that shot them to Purgatorio

The trouble with writing a limerick
Is that some people just can't deliver it
They stumble and fall
To their readership's gall
And just get it completely wrong at the end

The doctor who lives on the hill
Makes a living from making folk ill
Though he'll seldom admit
With his withering wit
That his skill with a pill doesn't thrill.

Virg' and D' on their way to the rapture
Strained too much nearly causing a rupture
They spent all their time
Finding words that rhyme
Ne'er a worry about limerick structure

It is said, although seldom confirmed,
Dante's guide had to leave to be wormed
But the nematode's girth
Was the source of much mirth
Causing Virgil to scream as he squirmed

While out tilting at windmills one day
Don quixote was feeling quite gay
And said, "Sancho, come here,
You're really a dear,
Hold my lance and we'll dance on the way"

Sancho thought hard on The Don's suggestion
Furling his brow attempting connection
A bit of a dullard
His face lightly colored
As Don's motives were called into question

Don Quijote’s a sweet sort of guy
Looking up at the star-punctured sky.
Dulcinea was out.
Time to wander about,
Time to wonder where she went and why.

The Knight, he pined for his sweet Dulcinea
He'd raised her as high as Ava Maria
But Sancho knew better
Was his job to vet her
And the girl of Don's dreams had gonorrhea