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Limber Limericks Contest
Leg it (Irish slang for “run quickly”) to your laptop and compose a running/walking related limerick.
Then just for submitting it to us, you’ll be in the running for one of 20 pairs of Feetures Elite Light Cushion No-Show Socks we’ll be giving away. ((These are left-right specific socks with good medium cushion and our most popular sock in the store!)
Be sure to email us (email@example.com) your limerick by St. Patrick’s Day (March 17th)!
Need a quick little reminder on what makes a limerick?
A limerick is a short, comical, and almost musical poem that often borders on the nonsensical or for the sake of this contest, the only slightly naughty.
A true limerick has five lines; the first, second, and fifth rhyme with each other, and the third and fourth rhyme with each other.
Here’s a sampling of some great submissions we got so far this year:
I need the best socks for my walks.
They make me feel like a fox.
Said my hubby, “The bin –
I can’t fit anymore in!”
I disagree, sock paradox.
There once was an old lady from the county
Who once ran miles “a plenty”
But the years took their toll
So she set a new goal
To walk until she is 90!
There once was a gender fluid from Bellingham,
that had an ambitious running program.
So he ran night and day,
which ultimately led her astray,
and now he/she is slow as a clam.
There once was a Fairhaven store,
Who’s running gear all did adore
I went in for chews
And came out with new shoes
I’m still slow, but at least look hardcore.
My human stems from the Emerald Isle,
Which always makes me smile.
She jogs just like an Irish gal,
I trot along my bestest pal
Until we pause and she collects my pile.
There was a young runner named Jock,
Who hobbled and pulled at his sock.
An onlooker said,
“To tackle your tread,
First you must take out the rock.”
The trail challenges me,
as I leap over a fallen tree.
I feel the warmth of the sun.
A surprise blessing on the run.
And soon my mind is set free.
There was a runner named Zach.
He used to like carrying a rucksack.
But when he was older,
He got a bad shoulder.
And now he complains ‘bout his back.
– Lance M
There was once a man from the hills.
He used to run for the thrills.
To gain speed, he runs bare.
As he runs, people stare.
Now he streaks for the shrills.
There was once a walker named Lance.
He never liked wearing his pants.
In underwear clad,
He never was mad.
But when clothed he was brimming with rants.
There once was a shop in Fairhaven
That sold running stuff I was cravin’
GPS, shoes and socks
And energy blox
And gear for any occasion