Sometimes Laetitia’s tour guests suggested that she select tour destinations mostly because their names would make good limericks rather than because they have notable scenery or historical significance. Laetitia couldn’t think of any other reason for going to Gackle, North Dakota other than that it would give her guests a taste of American small-town life.
Gackle is a town of roughly 300 inhabitants. It’s not an especially lively town, but it has a few bars and pubs where one can pick up the local gossip. Having done her homework before going there, Laetitia was aware that there was a rude meaning for “gackle” when it is used as a verb, but she decided to let her tour group look it up for themselves. It’s so easy these days with the Internet.
At the bar of one of the local pubs, there was an older woman nursing a Manhattan as she flirted with any man who walked by. Most of them were young enough to be her grandsons. After she had gotten tipsy and left with a man her own age, the bartender told Laetitia, “That’s Moll. She used to be a ravishing beauty with stunning black hair. Back then she was the toast of the town, but then she got old.” Moll became the subject of Laetitia’s limerick.
With black hair that gleamed like a grackle
Moll was the enchantress of Gackle
But she rued the day
When her tresses turned gray
And her rivals all started to cackle.