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Pea and Honey Recipes
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I Eat My Peas With Honey
And tales of derring-do.
Four lines, they can be rhyming
(That's Glow Worms to me and you).
Ending line is as usual.
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There's nowt to disparage Can we stop trying to rhyme things with 'Farage'? It limits the potential of t'rhymes. Ta v much.
When motorists are naughty
I give them one quick toot
And shout "You're doing forty" (pen) I wasn't. First appearance of Mr UKIP in this game.
On the motorway to boot
I wish I were on holiday
Boating on the Kennett
Just sitting back and reading prose
Or scripts from Alan Bennett
If only I were twenty [Rosie] Pen may have been thinking of Mr. Farage's recent appearance in one of the limerick games.
And callow in my ways
I'd dream of lands of plenty
And my many different lays coat!
If I were only forty
I'd be half what I am now
Though not in age, let it be said
I'm just fat - and how!
If I should stumble over
And need help getting up
To hire a crane is rather rude
But sorry - needs must - yup! ... notably few rhymes for 'up'
My waistline is expanding
Oh, what a brave admission
My feet are slow shrinking
With every inch addition
The time has come for action
A fitness plan perhaps
Holds less of an attraction
Than deep-fried bacon baps
I have no time for deadlines
I've better things to do
Like read a book or solve some crimes
Or pop off to the loo
[SM] I genuinely spent over five minutes manfully resisting "loo" and "poo". Congratulations on giving in to your inner schoolboy :-)
I wish I were a toilet roll (Phil) Same here, largely because I thought I'd give you a go. Imagine my disappointment, though SM has valiantly maintained the tradition.
The hard kind, not the soft Oh-er, memories of school
Sitting unused is the goal
So stash it in the loft.
The phoenix' cry is rarely heard Let's try and raise the tone a bit.
A song so cold and bleak
For it is an ornery bird
And someone glued its beak. There's classy ...
I took a class in classic art
I now know Bosch from Dürer
But the paintings in my pantry
Are somewhat more obscurer
Pre-Raphaelite is more my thing
It's simply more expressive
Dante and his art-for-art
And ladies part-undressive
The cubists' art is thus defined:
Abstract with no perspective
Which makes it look less like the real
And more like the subjective.
All art is tosh, I would opine
Except for this piece by Divine
.. are we venturing into limerickese?
[Chalky] My line can swing either way
Raphael, portraying Madonna
With very few garments upon 'er. Sorry, I don't usually double-post, but it seemed right. Also, if you substitute "I'd" for "I would" in the first line, it scans quite nicely.
I wish I were a grease gun
Hidden textBang, bang; you're slippery.
To you nipple I'd be put
I'd keep your bearings running free
With mayhem underfoot
The joy of lubrication
Is lost on all my friends
They much prefer fixation
Of all their bits and ends.
The benefits of friction
Should not be understated
Since rubbing up the wrong way
Can make me quite elated
He recommended traction [Phil] hehe
And an orthopaedic brace [R, p, P] I was thinking about "The use of prophylactics/ being highly over-rated", but didn't want to triple-post.
I had the satisfaction
Next week they hear my case
I came across this thoughtful item and decided to share it with you. It's a lyric from a song by Dory Previn.>
We never stop to wonder
Until a person's gone
We never yearn to know him
Until he's travelled on
[Software] Splendid 4th line. I was expecting something like "Of pummelling his face", but yours was much better :-)
The art of writing lyrics
When all is said and done
Depends upon the music
And the 'Dum-de-dum-de-dum' I think I've got the metre right, even if it's not a perfect rhyme...
[pen] Do you know the Monty Python sketch about Denis Moore? It's apposite.
I'm very fond of lupins
And shrubberies are nice
But best of all are cacti
Distilled and served with ice
My brother is a tailor he's actually a programmer. worked on the 'Halo' game franchise.
He sewed my new blue jeans 'Sun-up Alterations, Zips Mended While-U-Wait'>
My father was a gambling man
Way down in Whitmore Reans
My papa was a preacher man
And so was Billy Ray's
When he stole kisses from me
I was young - it was a phase.
I close my eyes and count
To ten - that was the plan
Alas I fell asleep at six
Finish for me if you can
I wish I were an aardvark
First in the alphabet
Alas I am a zebra
But ahead of the zzxjoanw yet.
Qaanaaq is in Greenland
Its night life must be seen
This requires a microscope
So you must be very keen
I wish I were a chimney sweep
I'd sing 'Chim-chim-chereeee!'
I'd talk in mangled Cockney
And shout "'ello Mary!"
I wish I could be thinner
Say, butyl acetate
Or maybe min'ral spirits
Your shine off I would take
Merry Christmas Everybody!
Good cheer to one and all!
While there's still some hot toddy
Let's drink it 'til we fall!
It's Boxing Day in Canada
They're fighting in the streets
And if a hockey match breaks out
The day will be complete(s)!
I had a little nut tree
I often used to beat it
But it never bore a single nut
I think that I've been cheated.
I wish I were a rain-gauge
Overflowing in a storm
So full I can't contain myself
As I'm not cribriform
I have a little puppy
It loves to play with me
It's scoffed my little guppy
And quaffed my Earl Grey tea.
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