Three Curates / Four '-e(g)g's

A rotten egg one curate had. 
That curate said, “It weren’t all bad.” 
Another's leg felt stiff and sore. 
Quoth he, “No worse than ‘twas before,” 
then strapp’d on a prosthetic peg 
and said, “Who needs a second leg...?” 
But when a third one's keg ran out, 

‘twas tot'lly bad; he voiced no doubt.