Quoth a cat to me once: “Pray relieve
My suspense. What does eight from nine leave?”
Poor puss looked so cold
And so thin and so old,
I replied, “Quite a few, I believe.”

[Oliver Herford in The Century Magazine. Vol. LXXXV, December 1912, no. 2, p. 322.]

Said a cow, “It has long been my dream,
A sort of utopian scheme,
To leave, when I die,
Enough milk to supply
A home for poor kittens — with cream.”

[Oliver Herford in The Century Magazine. Vol. LXXXV, December 1912, no. 2, p. 321.]

The was once a silly old grafter,
Who suspended himself from a rafter,
His Mother-in law
Gave one loud guffaw
And nearly exploded with laughter.

Charles B. Heney, Omaha, Neb.

[Foolish Limericks Now and Then are Relished by the Best of Men. Chicago Tribune, 10 April 1910. panel 3.]

There was an old man of Dundee
Who sent me some gunpowder tea,
But the first cup I tried
Exploded inside!
Which rather disorganized me.

There was an old man of Algiers
Who lived with me several years
But one day, in a rage
I assaulted the sage
And finished him off, it appears

There was a young lady of Fife
And I asked her if she’d be my wife
But she uttered a sort
Of a kind of a snort
And rushed upon me with a knife!

There was an old man of Bombay
Who blessed his friends every day
But this wearisome blessing
Became so distressing
That they killed him I’m sorry to say.