There was a young a poetess named Plath
Make sense of her death? No one hath
Sylvia opened her oven
Then her head she did shove in
And quietly turned on the gath

I've tried to understand, but I've failed
Despite all that her writings unveiled
Is it just that her Daddy
Was an Aryan baddy?
How I long for a Plath less travailed

TLG - Tasteless Limericks Guaranteed