Definitely Limericks: Et-Ez

Etymologists, we, as we try
To define any word that we spy.
And we do it in rhyme!
People ask all the time
Why we do. A rare few can tell why.

EU freedom to move with impunity
For a lifestyle or job opportunity
Is for many a boon,
But others hope soon
We’ll all stay in our local community.

It’s resulted in Euro-disunity.

How the euro seemed shiny and new
At the dawn of 2002!
Has its currency passed?
Set your flags at half-mast,
As our leaders don’t know what to do.

Europeans call Europe their base,
But their forebears engaged in a race
To displace many others.
Colonial brothers
At times brought the label disgrace.

He’s developed a bad case of gout,
Thanks to overconsumption of stout.
On the other hand, though,
He’s the new CEO
Now of Guinness. It all evens out.

No relation to the CEO of Diageo PLC, the company that now owns the iconic Irish brand.

Eventually, this will all end.
How you cope with that thought will depend
On your outlook, and how
Soon it happens from now.
Make the most of this limerick, my friend.

Evolution’s first feathered creation
Was a dinosaur. Then, evolation
(i.e., flying away)
Saw them turn, day by day,
Into masters of long-range migration.

An obsolete term for the act of flying away.

My ewer’s accrued many ewes
On its surface; I choose to peruse
Ovine feminine stencils
On vase-shaped utensils,
Like pitchers I use to hold booze.

A lady one day, feeling bored,
Took a dip in a lake with her sword,
When along came a king.
“I’ll be having that thing,”
He exclaimed, as he claimed his reward.

Most versions of Arthurian legend associate Excalibur with the Lady of the Lake, distinguishing it from the Sword in the Stone.

If your friends are all fellows for whom
Catching up involves dwelling on doom,
Don’t just sit there and fume:
Get some stuff that goes BOOM!
An explosive will scatter the gloom.

We’re on Skaro; the Daleks are near.
Then the Doctor says, “Quick! Disappear!”
In a panic, I try,
But hear one of them cry:
“SHE’S EX-TOG-EN-OUS—IS-N’T FROM HERE.”

Though I fancied its polka-dot collar,
The price on the shirt made me holler.
Too high! Disproportionate!
Excessive! Extortionate!
I wouldn’t buy that for a dollar.

Move closer, dear, will you, because
Your aunt’s eyesight is not what it was.
Let me look at those shoes.
Always red ones you choose!
My dear Dorothy, this isn’t Oz.

The Eurozone (shorthand: EZ)
Is a region investors have fled.
Once it bustled, and trusted
Its banks. Now they’re busted,
With state after state in the red.

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