It feels like a hundred and three!
And we’re both just as parched as can be.
We’re panting and moaning,
Perspiring and groaning…
So why are we drinking hot tea?
Congratulations to Guy Pietrobono of Washingtonville, New York! For his outstanding limerick, he wins $25 and our gratitude for this funny and entertaining poem describing Billboard Painters (above) by Stevan Dohanos. You can enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our next issue of The Saturday Evening Post through our online entry form.
Guy’s limerick wasn’t the only one we liked. In nor particular order, here are some of our other favorite contest entries:
When the heat is uncompromising
And the work is ever-perspiring.
With the drink that you pour,
It is hard to ignore
That there’s truth in some advertising.
—S. Pavelich, Grand Blanc, Michigan
Two painters named Willy and Fred,
Rode up in a truck that was red.
Old Fred should have learnt
That his head would get burnt
If his hat was not up on his head.
—Tom Glatting, Chillicothe, Ohio
“Imagine us both in the shade
Sipping GALLONS of pink lemonade …”
That we’re working here, Fred,
‘Cause on Friday I’d like to get paid!”
—Guy Pietrobono, Washingtonville, New York
I’m thinkin’ that drinkin’ this potion
Might make me go weak with emotion.
Up here on this deck,
It’s hotter than heck.
A refill? You’ll have my devotion.
—Rebekah Hoeft, Redford, Michigan
The sign was for selling AC.
One painter explained it to me:
AC really cools
By transferring joules.
And a jewel of a painter was he.
—Phillip T. Ross, Indianapolis, Indiana
Think back, now, to winter’s big chill,
And the snowball you rolled down the hill.
This heat wave won’t last,
It soon will be past,
And then you’ll miss summer, you will!
—Grace Bates, Ft. Wayne, Indiana
It’s hotter than what it reads there,
And that big fan ain’t blowin’ cool air.
It sure would be nice
To sit on the ice
And pretend to be Big Papa Bear!
—Dolores M. Sahelian, Mission Viejo, California
Of all the unfortunate luck,
Hot weather had actually struck.
Poor Robert and Casey!
If only the AC
Was working inside their own truck.
—Neal Levin, Bloomfield Hills, Michigan
Outdoor work that is done in the sun
Isn’t close to a job you’d call fun.
When the heat is so cruel,
Try to keep yourself cool
So not you, but the sign, is well done.
—Thomas Eveslage, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
The boy really never was sicker,
’Cause Grampa was not one to bicker.
When he begged for a puff:
“Take 10 since you’re tough!
And here, taste my hundred-proof liquor!”
Congratulations to Rebekah Hoeft of Redford, Michigan! For her outstanding limerick, she wins $25 and our gratitude for this funny and entertaining poem describing Harold Anderson’s Sick of Smoking (above). If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our next issue of The Saturday Evening Post, submit your limerick through our online entry form.
Rebekah’s limerick wasn’t the only one we liked. In nor particular order, here are some of our other favorite contest entries:
A lit pipe, a boy, and his pup
Were out in “the bush,” hiding up.
Boy took a deep toke
Of that tobacco smoke
And fell down as his dinner came up.
—William Fountain, Carlsbad, California
This young lad with an early desire
To try out Granddad’s burley ‘n’ briar
Took only one puff
And deemed it enough
To cause him to surely expire!
—Clarice Piantedosi, Attleboro, Massachusetts
“Little Boy Blue,” just thirteen,
Part man and part boy — in between —
Thought just for a joke
He’d puff on pipe smoke,
And now he is “Little Boy Green!”
—Cheryl Burney, Royal Oak Michigan
Doctors have charged me a fee,
Saying naps will revitalize me.
It’s advice that seems sound,
So henceforth I’ll be found
Every afternoon — prone to agree.
—Paul Richards, Peoria, Illinois
‘What happened to my buddy Luke?’
Thought trusty ol’ pal, Marmaduke.
‘I want to get close,
But something smells gross.
Not the smoke — my pal reeks of puke.’
—Edward Perley, Downingtown, Pennsylvania
After consulting his dog “Lucky Charm,”
He surmised, ‘what the heck could it harm?’
The laddie got ripe
After puffing his pipe,
And he tripped without leaving the farm.
—C.T. Carney, Knoxville, Tennessee
Oh, what I would give to redo
My last couple moments or two?
For sure no more smoking,
And I am not joking,
Because down here, I don’t like the view.
—Norma Wilt, Cincinnati, Ohio
Here lies a naughty young snipe
Who decided to swipe daddy’s pipe.
Off to smoke it he went;
Now he doth repent,
And the tears from his cheeks he doth wipe.
—Brandi King, Riverdale, Michigan
I hadn’t tried smoking as yet.
Some puffs would be great — I would bet!
But then things spun around,
And I fell on the ground!
So next time — an e-cigarette!
—Brian Federico, Clyde, New York