SPAWN, THE LIMERICK

Seven big, pretty salmon swam up the Betsy River,

Each salmon carried a package they had to deliver,

If each one gets their wish,

They will make baby fish,

Adding another DNA arrow to their quiver.

MY PSYCHIC TELLS ME

Because I have been a very bad boy,

My psychic predicts, no afterlife joy,

Mildew, fungi and molds,

My afterlife unfolds,

Just like how they found uncle Roy.