September/October 2019 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-up

His D was so hard to admit.
Would Dad throw the news — or a fit?
But Dad was okay,
“Next time? You will slay.
That dog took 12 years to learn ‘sit’!”

Congratulations to M. Leach of Groton, Massachusetts, who won $25 for this fun limerick describing Frances Tipton Hunter’s March 25, 1939, cover illustration.

If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our upcoming issue, submit your limerick via our online entry form.

Here are some of our other favorite limericks from this contest, in no particular order:

Bobby felt anxious and sad
Because his report card was bad.
He stopped feeling blue
When he learned what was true:
“I always got worse grades,” laughed Dad.

—Barbara French, Anaheim, California

A failing report card is bad.
I’m very afraid to tell dad.
I hid it away
Until church day (today),
So he maybe won’t get quite so mad.

—Joyce Petrichek, Finleyville, Pennsylvania

Make room in your doghouse, Pard.
I’m about to show Dad this card.
My marks are abysmal.
My future is dismal.
We’ll both sleep tonight in the yard.

—Gene Newman, Parsippany, New Jersey

His loyal dog shares his unease,
Or perhaps he’s just battling fleas.
But he’s a good sport —
Provides canine support —
When Danny must show Dad his D’s.

—Wendy Hyrkas, De Pere, Wisconsin

Report cards are serious stuff;
they never seem quite good enough.
Though try as I might,
It’s always a fight,
So I’ll just leave mine here with old Ruff.

—Ray Liskey, Griffith, Indiana

My report card, and Papa must read it.
So I’ll drop it right down here and beat it.
I’ll merit an A
In shrewdness that way
If Spot should get hungry and eat it!

—Jeff Foster, San Francisco, California

Show Dad my report? No, he’ll hate it.
I need an excuse; I’ll create it.
I’ll hide it someplace
And not leave a trace,
And then tell my dad, “The dog ate it!”

—Joan Quick, Hyde Park, New York

My English grade frustrates my father;
My accent is rather a bother.
My pronunciation
Is first-generation:
I’d rather say “rather” than “rawthur.”

—Jim Cummins, Cincinnati, Ohio

Without any words to explain,
Tim’s face was afire with his pain.
His little friend, Boo,
Was feeling tense, too,
Knowing Big Dog would soon pop a vein.

—Jan Sasek, Antelope, California