Yesterday Denise found a poem and wrote about it on her blog.
So, I thought that this would be a good way, on a day when I am tired, to entertain the masses.
Surely, I thought, there is a good poem about fatness.
Step forward, Mr Edward Lear, who never wrote a good poem in his life.
There was an Old Man of Kamschatka,
Who possessed a remarkably fat cur;
His gait and his waddle were held as a model
To all the fat dogs in Kamschatka.
Turns out, not a good way to entertain the masses.
These days, possibly nobody has heard of Kamschatka. But even when Lear published his 'First Book of Rubbish Limericks' (not the official title) in the 1870s, nothing had really gone on there for 15 years, at least as far as his primary audience.
Here is my favourite Lear limerick...
A daring young Man from Man
Came from the Isle of Man
He was a man, from the Isle of Man
That curious young man from Man.
Really, Lear is rubbish!
Here is my best limerick about being fat
There was a young man from Bilbao
Whose tummy was big as a cow
He had eaten one season
The whole of a Friesian.
He's not eating anything now.
Because he's dead you see.
Not good if you have to explain it I know. I say it was my best, and I genuinely gave it a lot if thought. And that was, sadly, the best I could do.