We bring you here some brand-new “pokes,”
Poems telling old stale jokes.
Today’s, howe’er, are faves of mine ...
(Rude and cheeky, by design.)
To a savage land two men of God did travel.
They sought to give to heathens Christian voice.
Their mission soon most gravely did unravel
For seized they were, and given a grim choice:
“You may choose roo-roo,” said the village chief
Or, in its stead, take sudden, instant killing.
The first man said, “The first,” with slight relief:
Whatever roo-roo was, it seemed less chilling.
But tied he was, face first, to a big tree,
And, at the hands of tribesmen, he was toast:
His nethers suffered gross indignity,
Till, hours later, he gave up the ghost.
The second man was given the same choice:
And from his colleague’s trial he quite took heed,
He said he wanted death — then, with rejoice:
“I ask it done right now, with all due speed.”
The chief responded wisely, like a guru:
“As you wish — but first ... a little roo-roo.”
Into a bar walked a lady named Sondra.
Her face was angelic, her body spelled trouble.
She said to the barkeep, “I’ll have an entendre,
… And, come to think of it, make it a double.”
No thinker was he — he was more of a doer.
So the barkeep just smiled … and then gave it to her.
The Beany Baby
The baseball kept getting bigger and bigger
Why that was, I could not figger!
The problem threatened to outwit me.
Which is when — aha! — it hit me!
See Spots Pun
I told my doctor, Max Linguine:
“I’ve broken out in spots of red,
Just like a polka-dot bikini!”
“You have analogy,” he said.
I went to see my doc
For a problem with my rear
I’d lately got a shock —
And it was tinged with fear.
For right there, sticking out,
Was some lettuce — stiff and green!
“Doc, what’s this all about?”
I asked, with troubled mien.
What followed deeply panicked me:
For a saddened Dr. Weissberg
Said, “Son, this might well be …
… alas, just the tip of the iceberg.”
The Empty Nest
I just hate Russian dolls
And won’t put them on my shelves.
Just why, you well might ask?
They’re so full of themselves!
Email Gene Weingarten at firstname.lastname@example.org. Find chats and updates at washingtonpost.com/magazine.