Sarah once felt a small nick.
When she looked, she found a small tick.
She saw with her eye,
right there on her thigh,
the seed for the damn limerick. 

She watched it swell and grow big.
It gorged on her blood like a pig.
She sucked down some air,
sat down in a chair,
and pulled out her tweezers to dig.

She shouted, “Now you’ll come out!
Of that, there is really no doubt!”
She dug and she plucked
(and the bug was soon fucked)
then she flushed it to swim with the trout.