January/February 2014 Limerick Laughs Winner and Runners-Up

I’ve been shovelin’ this sidewalk for hours,
And it’s quite nearly robbed all me powers.
But the toil’s not the reason,
Tis all of the sneezin’.
You see’s, I’m allergic to flowers.
—John Eggerton, Springfield, Virginia
Congratulations to John Eggerton! For his limerick describing John Falter’s illustration (left), John wins $25—and our gratitude for a job well done. If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our upcoming issue, submit your limerick via our online entry form.

Of course, John’s limerick wasn’t the only one we liked! Here are some of our favorite limericks from our runners-up, in no particular order:

A florist named Tropical Joe
Was weary of shoveling snow.
His balmy green thumb
Froze up and turned numb,
And resentment was all he could grow.
—Michelle Barnes, Gainesville, Florida

My job as a sweeper is tough;
I really have had quite enough.
I surely am through,
Because all I do
Is heave around forkfuls of fluff.
—David Warren, Lake Oswego, Oregon

It’s hard to clean up snow,
You can’t use a rake or a hoe.
A shovel is best
When put to the test,
Until the wind starts-in to blow.
—Cathy Fleming, Coal City, Illinois

This cold weather gives me the blues.
It freezes my gloves and my shoes.
I shovel this stuff,
But I’ve had enough—
Next winter I’m booking a cruise!
—Mary Starn, Orrville, Ohio

Forecasters do have a knack
For inches of snow keeping track.
Some think it’s pretty.
But for those in the city,
The snow is a pain in the back.
—Tim Cannon, Osceola, Iowa

Although I don’t mean to be picky,
This weather’s incredibly icky.
Too bad there’s a guard in
the front of that garden.
Now getting inside will be tricky.
—Neal Levin, Bloomfield Hills, Michigan

There was an old fellow named Cox,
Who spent his life shoveling rocks.
Said he got his powers
From sniffing the flowers;
He was a delightful old fox.
—Bill Jones, Johnstown, Pennsylvania

The shop called the Tropical Bloom
Is filled with a floral perfume
That’s cheerful and gracious,
A delightful oasis,
From winter’s unstoppable gloom.
—Buffy Silverman, Augusta, Michigan

It is not really quite apropos
That the flower men must shovel snow.
But they must sell their posies
If it means frozen toesies,
Since the bank account’s running so low.
—Patrick McKeon, Pennington, New Jersey

There once was a shoveler named Ray,
A situation he thought gross and gray.
He hated ice slush
Like so much dead mush,
So he hopped the next flight to L.A.
—Terry Free, Andover, Minnesota

Oh me, oh my, what a mess.
This will certainly be a test
For two men with shovels
To be quick on the double,
So ladies will not be distressed.
—Judy Shannon, Huntsville, Missouri