I went to the town of Limerick. This was not Llily Llama’s silly trick. It’s part of my tour. I hope it won’t bore. So I’ll make this visit really quick!

Town historians say Native Americans called it Ossipee. But sold it to someone not on the family tree. Settled in 1668. Colonists thought it was great. And soon came Major Shapleigh.

Then there was the French and Indian War. Living there became such a chore. In 1763 a treaty was signed. And the days became kind. Or at least that is what I found in the lore.

There once was a lawyer named Sullivan. He lived there for a long life span. His father was Irish. I don’t know if he was stylish. But to name the town Limerick was his game plan!

Nine out of ten owned a farm. To the land they vowed do no harm. Then came the mill. That brought a new thrill. That their blankets were known for their charm!

Today the town is in Maine. This poem is taxing my brain. I am not a poet. This post sure does show it. Let’s stop before causing more pain!

Thank you for joining me in Limerick. I promise to stop this strange schtick. Tomorrow we go for a hike! Which is something I know you will like! Because I can’t rhyme anything with Jagolinzer Preserve!