Fancy a short one?
A forgetful old gasman named Dieter, / Who went poking around his gas heater, / Touched a leak with his light; / He blew out of sight— / And, as everyone who knows anything about poetry can tell you, he also ruined the meter.
There once was a runner named Dwight / Who could speed even faster than light. / He set out one day / In a relative way / And returned on the previous night.
An amoeba, named Max, and his brother / Were sharing a drink with each other; / In the midst of their quaffing, / They split themselves laughing, / And each of them now is a mother.
There was an old girl of Genoa / And I blush when I think that Iowa; / She's gone to her rest, / It's all for the best, / Otherwise I would borrow Samoa.
There once was a lady named Ferris / Whom nothing could ever embarrass. / 'Til the bath salts one day, / in the tub where she lay, / turned out to be Plaster of Paris.
The star violinist was bowing; / The quarrelsome oarsmen were rowing. / But how is the sage / To discern from this page: / Was it piglets, or seeds, that were sowing?
A magazine writer named Bing / Could make copy from most anything; / But the copy he wrote / of a ten-dollar note / Was so good he now lives in Sing Sing.
An oyster from Kalamazoo / Confessed he was feeling quite blue. / For he said, "As a rule, / When the weather turns cool, / I invariably get in a stew."