Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

In private email, Interrobang
Discerned the reason that my words scan
To dactyls although my mother tongue
Is surely built on the iamb plan.

It's just that when still a juvenile,
Exposed to poems of a certain style,
I grew quite fond of the Limerick
Which some call fun and others vile.

The point in which I find irony
Is that the ones that are dear to me
Do set the pattern to start if off
But are not the Limericks they seem to be.

There once was a man from Japan
Whose Limericks never would scan
  When people asked why
  He replied with a sigh
"It's because I always try to cram as many syllables into the last line as I possibly can."
  
  
There was a fellow from China
Whose Limericks scan much finah
  His Limericks tend
  To come to an end
Suddenly
  
  
Another young gent hailed from Rheemes
With tidier scansion it seems
  She had all the rhymes
  But they're only four lines
  
  
There once was a lady from Crewe
Whose Limericks stopped at line two
  
  
There once was a man from Verdun
  
  
(There's alleged to be a fine Limerick about Nero, but I fear I've never heard it.)
  
And finally:
  
  
There once was a man from St. Bees
Who was stung on the arm by a hornet
  When asked, "Does it hurt?"
  He replied, "No, it doesn't;
I'm just so glad it wasn't a wasp."