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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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There's a reason I don't like young Dave
And I'll share it with you 'cause I'm brave
Is, he scares me, y'see
With that noise as he wee
And the daredevil way that he shave Marc, is English your native language? Because sometimes I wonder, the way you force rhymes in when the subject and sense just don't fit.
There once was a man with a beard
Which he grew because folks said he leered
But he leered unabated
At each lady he dated
And that Sir, is how come he got sheared.
While trying to play Brubeck's Take Five
My feet started dancing the jive
Their groovy gyrations
Made large perturbations
- I'm told that her toes won't survive.
Tonight is a full Lenten Moon
Which comes not a moment too soon
For I have indulged
And my belly has bulged
I admit - I'm a thorough poltroon
My favourite Uncle has claimed
That he was mistakenly blamed
For the financial mess
And for cheating in chess
For which he was named, shamed and maimed.
[p,S,M,P] :-)
"In jail you belong Uncle Andy!"
"Your excesses go beyond randy"
"For your lecherous way"
"You now have to pay"
But first, pour me some of that brandy?
Please stop this absurd punctuation
It leads to complete obfuscation
Say the words as they're spelled
Like "yacht", "Keighley", "knelt" (Raak) I'm sure you meant "spelt".
or "supertranssubstantiation"
All of us use electricity
Its chiefest appeal is simplicity
However, some find
That Propane gas, combined
In the kitchen causes duplicity
My mouse balls are sticky with dust
Which disables the joy of mouse lust well, really!
So I've screwed off the plug
Gave its balls a good tug
All of which leaves my mouse quite nonplussed
My monitor's baleful stare
Seems to plead, "Is anyone there?"
The answer, so sad
Because it's just a fad
To use this outdated hardware.
I've revived my old VC10
Which I last flew in - goodness known when!
Though its synthetic sound (http://www.vintagesynth.com/korg/vc10.php)
Makes it bound to the ground
Though we're airborne each Friday at ten.
The next time I see a black cat
At it I shall throw my hat
I shall swear curse and spit [Softers] Wouldn't 'old hat' give your line a better scansion?
As I rightly see fit
Then kick it away. And that's that.
Incredible as it may seem
I like being broad in the beam
The comfort I get
From a full buttock set
Is matched by a fine bosom team
[P, i, p, So, Sp] Jolly good, I enjoyed that :-)
My shoulder is hurting like hell
And it makes my arm ache as well Actually this is timely, I have a trapped nerve in my shoulder and it does hurt like hell!
I must give up darts
And start dating tarts
As my jerk-muscle's started to swell.

I shall reach for my coat and my hat
Don them, adjust my cravat (Chasty) Your jerk muscles are situated in your hand and forearm and I detect overuse.
The make for the door
For us who don't score
The whorehouse will remedy that
My life has been turned upside down
In my new job as "Famed Head-stand Clown"
The blood to my head rushes
Which gives me hot flushes
Which at least brings some kind of renown
There once was a man who was smart
Who could cunningly conceal a fart
Or so he had thought Fool. You can never achieve that.
Because he was caught
Claiming hydrogen sulphide as art.
I wish I had super strength
I'd not ask, "Are the foils all a length?"
I would just use me arms
And switch on all my charms
Albeit imbibe far less absinthe.
One day while washing my car
Of bird droppings, fag ash and tar Last one absolutely dreadful.
Which clogged up my chamois *careful now*
And made it all clammy Antipodean Pronunciation invoked
Now it's shining and worthy a Czar
In French, but not English, there's gender (Pablo) Wot, clamwah?.
In UK its a wing, not a fender
US -"center", not "centre"
but you can tell what is meant: a
In this case we've arrived at The Ender.
My boss (it's a she) never knows
The colour I've painted my toes
One day I'll surprise her
By using Budweiser
And the powder left from Cheetos.
The good folk of Chorlton-cum-Hardy
Are quite underweight - never lardy
But the chiels o' Dumfries
Are loaded with grease
Smelly, obese and quite mardy
There was an old man of Dundee called William Topaz McGonagall.
Who wrote verse that the people of Dundee and beyond found comical
He strove with heroic verse both night and day
Each effort more disastrous than the Tay
His poetry you can still see, serialised in the Edinburgh Chronicle
It seems at last we've found our level
And so we can begin to revel [Simons]Is this some quaint old Tudor metre for limericks that you have resurrected?
Poetic form is so passé 4 lines, AABB?
The Lim'rick déclassé - It still works as a Limerick, IMHO: It seems at last we've found our level / And so we can begin to revel / Poetic (pronounced pwetic) form is so passé
But this stuff sounds more like Phil Neville. (Phil notNeville) You're a kinder man than me. SM's line can be greatly improved by inverting we've and at last. (Pablo) Any further references to "quaint old Tudor" will be treated with the utmost disdain. :-)
So who took my great name in vain
The whole world, old chap, once again Not a diamond geezer, then.
On the silvery Tay
As you stood up to say: [Rosie]Scorn my Tudor references as you will, the fact remains that Simons started us off in 6/8 metre but with crotchet-quaver pattern ending on a weak beat, whereas you finish with traditional limerick 6/8, all in quavers and finishing on the strong beat. Metric mismatch! (Sorry for expressing it in musical terms but have forgotten all that anapestic/trochaic/pterodactyls stuff.)
"Would you look at that f***ing big train!"
That's silly enough for the nonce
About with this stuff let's not ponce (Pablo) It was mock indignation, a joke (note the smiley), nothing to do with metre. Are you aware of my real name, and age? I thought most the the Morniverse was.
Just get to the point
Or we'll have to appoint
A gendarme to whack noobs on the bonce.
I spied from behind a net curtain
A something, of which I'm not certain? It could be... may-be not... or may-be it's... No, sorry I can't make it out, can any of you?
Could it be a duck? [Rosie] re name and age, I have heard rumours, but would not like to act on anything unsubstantiated :-)
Flattened out by a truck
Or hotpot by Betty Turpin
The Thames did once stink to high heaven
In fact, you could smell it from Devon
But some Eau de Cologne
Shipped by old Sly Stallone
Raised the pH to eleven. Caustic comments awaited.
It's true! I've seen elves, gnomes, and fairies
Who always pick my strawberries.
These funny wee folk
My joints they will smoke
And annoy me by shouting "Hail Marys"
While mowing my lawn in the rain
My foot felt a quite sudden pain
It turns out I'd stood
On something that should
Have driven a maniac insane.
Last night as I went to the pub
for a pint, or maybe some grub
But stood at the bar
Was my own avatar
Who'd escaped from the Second Life hub. Anyone else here active on Second Life?
I've just written a lovely new tune
A duet for steel drum and bassoon
Its tinny low drone
Like an orgasmic groan
Sounds so sweet on a warm night in June. Apparently not, then.
I stood on my own in the dark
Aghast, in Van Cortlandt Park
With my money all gone
In the Bronx, all forlorn
I felt a bit of a nark
Don't look at the sun through binocs
Or sail over Niag. in a box
If thrills you must seek
Just pretend you are Greek
And try changing fonts in a .docx
[Raak] I spent a few months playing with Second Life a few years back. I found it interesting but also somewhat baffling. I think I never figured out whether to be me, or whether I should be creating some new persona. Maybe I should take a look back in there again sometime.
[CdM] It's said that introverts tend to make avatars that are copies of themselves, while extroverts make avatars completely unlike themselves. My first av was basically a copy of me, although it's evolved away from that (for one thing, it's female now), and my second I started with something random and have been tweaking it ever since. I'm still the same person behind the keyboard though -- I find it impossible to put on a different manner with a different avatar.
My avatar's manic and loud
It wants to stand out in the crowd
To advertise me
And accept a small fee
And for this I am not at all proud.
There once was a wonderful kisser
(It's no wonder so many miss her.)
Her lips she did pucker
Like a giant squid's sucker
But sadly she's pulling your pisser The one with the belt missing, thanks
My trenchcoat is missing its belt
I found out just now when I felt u.s.a.
The breeze quite so cold
It made certain things BOLD
So i hurried back home at full pelt...
I know where I am - I am lost!
And really don't need to be bossed!
So shuddupa ya face
Just get on the case
And tell me which oceans I've crossed?
Relying on GPS
I think there's a missing 'my' in that line. On that assumption:
Is a sure route to anguish and stress
It's well-known to deceive
Or at least I believe
'Cos I wanted Bough Beech; got Loch Ness.
A certain young kangaroo
To an emu said, "How do you do?"
The emu replied
"Good! You Bonnie, me Clyde"
"Let us rob this here old boring zooo!"
There once was a golden-brown beer
That brought many pub crawlers good cheer
but at Earls Court
Always asked for "Red Port"
And was rightly chucked out on 'is ear.
Myself, I prefer a nice pinot
Or a cool Andalucian fino
But if push comes to shove
I've an illicit love
For pretty much any cheap vino.
Ha - v neat!
What Mr or Ms Bystander just said. That was excellent.

Life is too short for bad wine
Though having said that I'll opine [c,S,C,I,P] Stellar!
That even the worst
Will extinguish your thirst ...ugh...
And too much will rend you supine
I lie on my back and I think
Oh why did I have that last drink?
As my gut starts to churn
And my face starts to gurn
I quickly head for the sink
The porcelain throne I now face
Which my arsehole's about to deface One for you, Phil.
Both ends will soon spew
My message to you
While myself, I disgrace.
A topic of general bad taste
Is likely to get you maced
A sense of decorum
In this here forum
Behave - or forever be chased ...
I just splashed out on some new bedding
Where my bride will lay after our wedding
I hope she likes neon
'Cos it must be an aeon (irach) Is lay transitive? If so, who is the layee? The bridgegroom, presumably. If intransitive is she a chicken, great in egg? Did you mean lie?.
And put her in the mood for clothes shedding.
[Rosie]lay (lâ) transitive verb , (Slang) to have sexual intercourse with. ("Layee" works both ways, it's not just the groom's prerogative - ever heard of "woman on top", or do you think just "missionary"?
As I climbed to the top of the tower
I saw just out of reach, a small flower
With petals petite
And aroma so sweet,
Tried to pick it and fell for an hour.... (crash-boom-bang)
There are ways that are good and there's bad
Ways to explain to your dad
That you've just seen your Mum (irach) All blather. You meant lie, just as the woman next door meant when I used to hear her bellowing at her baby to "lay down!" "Pass him the bottles, then", I mutter. In any case, one doesn't lay; one gets laid.
oh dear, the possiblities. but i resist... With that idiot from
(cfm) "From" doesn't rhyme with "Mum". Are you some typically dimwitted fucking Yank or something?

[irach] The Merriam-Webster Dictionary of English Usage (which is the only truly worthwhile reference on style I have ever come across) observes that, in spoken English, "...there is the simple longevity of intransitive lay, almost 700 years of continuous use." It concludes its entry as follows (emphasis mine):
"Notwithstanding the belief of some that social judgments can be solidly based on language use, the lay-lie shibboleth may be changing its status. For instance, several commentators, such as Evans 1957, Follett 1966, and Flesch 1983, are perfectly willing to give the distinction up; Bolinger 1980 thinks it is already a lost cause not worth defending; Copperud 1970, 1980 judges the consensus of his experts that at least some uses of lay for lie are verging on standard; Flesch even goes so far as to recommend using lay for lie if it comes naturally to you.

"If lay "lie" is on the rise socially, however, it is likely to be a slow rise, as indignant letters to the editor attest. Bolinger observes sensibly that if you have invested some effort in learning the distinction, you will not want to admit that you have wasted your time. ... So what should you do? The best advice seems to be Bolinger's:
"Many people use lay for lie, but certain others will judge you uncultured if you do. Decide for yourself what is best for you."


[Rosie] Dear oh dear oh dear. You really need to get out more, see the world. There are many more ways of speaking English than you encounter in your particular little corner of suburbia.
"From" barely rhyme "Mum": http://www.rhymezone.com/r/rhyme.cgi?Word=mum&typeofrhyme=perfect&org1=syl&org2=l&org3=y
Rosie vs the rest: 0 - 2
Interestingly the 'lay/lie' issue is addressed by Geoffrey Pullum today in Language Log and he sticks to the (in)transitive distinction more than Merriam-Webster does. I think there may be a bit of transatlantic variation here on the levels of acceptability. I also wouldn't rhyme 'mum' and 'from' any more than 'mom' and 'crumb', though I wouldn't call someone out on it.
This is all just the result of a typing error. I'm sure that cfm simply omitted to type the word "Brum" at the end of his line in his line before posting.
The Pru [he's a bit of a cad]. Now stop being a silly, Rosie. You're worth more than this pettyfogging quibblesome nonsense. And I do believe that's the very first time I have used the word pettyfogging - - - :^)
If you make me an offer I might
Do something to you to delight
For sufficient incentive
I can be quite inventive
And promise to play - not to fight!
Would you like to come over and play?
I've fun toys here--what do you say?
There's Tigger and Roo
And don't forget Pooh!
But forget Andy Pandy - he's gay
Should we play today out in the street? [p,c,i,g,s] applause
Smash a shop, bash a cop on his beat!
We can burn with impunity
Destroy our community
—Ah, look at those kids. Ain't they sweet?
well done
If you wake in the middle of the night
With an feeling that something's not right
Grab your old cricket bat
And put on a hard hat
Will this you laid? Well - it might.
Let there be no doubt at all about the meaning of 'laid'
If an egg can get laid in the morning
It may do so without any warning.
The poor shell-shocked hen
Gets caught short in its pen
And the cock shake his tail and start mourning ...
The chick or the egg - what came first?
The Eggs! From their shells chicks do burst!
But who laid the eggs?
Is the question this begs
Damn it! Let them be cursed and recursed!
There were eggs before chicks had evolved
The issue, I think, is resolved
Now, scrambled or fried?
I can never decide
And what's more - will not get involved
Fry me some eggs in sweet butter
While I practise long strokes with my putter
Bring me baked beans [Tuj] That was a truly excellent line.
While I put on my jeans
Do I sound like a farty golf nutter?
If planted, this seed will produce ... Enough with the egg thing!
A berry beloved by moose
If you climb up the tree
You're certain to see
Bullwinkle up there, on the loose
[irach} *smiles*
When the road has become kind of Rocky
Take advice from an amateur jockey
Keep your bum in the air
Cling on tight to your mare
Or you'll throw up your pre-race lunch gnocchi
In Siberia, gnocchi are served
In a manner that leaves me unnerved
'Cos pasta on tundra
Will make me a chund'rer
And that is just what I've deserved...
This night I woke up in a dream
And said "Things are not quite as they seem"
I can't cross the oceans
And control bowel motions
But I'll just check the sheets - hope they're clean
This morning light promises much
A day full of happiness, such... unfini
as olives! And kisses!
And best wedding wishes!
For Pen and her dear old Dutch
(oblig)
Aaaaah - hope they like olives ...
I remember, on my honeymoon
I was caught in an Indian monsoon
To shelter from harm
We found an old barn
Which was cheaper than renting a room
A cheapskate I'll always be
The check's never handed to me
I don't pay my share
Which you may think unfair
But why pay when you get it for free? oblig.
Buy one and you'll get one free!
If two's not enough, then take three!
Buy three, the fourth's yours
Plus a fifth one, of course
And here, have the sixth one on me
"Discount? What's that?" said the vendor
I've a way of seducing the spender
Without special offers
I'll empty your coffers
Like Sanjay Kapoor from Eastenders
And I don't even watch soaps, honest
[Botherer] would've been even better if last 2 words had been 'the Eastender' Good to see you btw :)
[Chalky] Good call! And thanks, good to be back! So on that note:
The problem I have with the soaps
Is the plot-makers clearly are dopes
They think that disaster
Piled higher and faster
Is better than most TV tropes
In early Pre-Christian Rome
A scribe penned a lengthy old tome
Its mysterious pages   (How can you pen an old tome? If you're penning it, it's brand new.)
Took him ages and ages
[Raak] I wondered about that myself (from a print media perspective) but perhaps
Cos he carved them in wood with a comb.

I'm building an old ruined abbey
Coz I'm old and infirm and quite scabby - I realise, of course, that my contribution is not in the best possible taste. Just shoot me now.
Each brick I place crumbles
The Lord above grumbles [Raak] Outstanding "subliminal" message
As His Kingdom on Earth looks so flabby
When people say "ends of the earth"
I wonder what they have "learth."
We must all reconsider our lines [cfm, KS] Maybe you should also reconsider your lines?
Lest the Limerick Police impose fines
Bad rhythm and scansion
And metric expansion Nothing remotely wrong with cfm's opener there.
Will soon provoke grumbles and whines
(Indeed: cfm's line fitted all the scansion requirements for a limerick)

When people say "ends of the earth"
They seldom mean further than Perth
But "back of beyond"
Or "over the pond"
Is never a place of great worth


There's no call nowadays for a sword
A wigwam, an easel, or fjord
Or for correction fluid
Unless you're a druid unfini
Who wants to erase a bad word.
I learned some bad words in my youth
Some obscene, others merely uncouth
One I think starts with F...?
So thank goodness I'm deaf
Or I might hear you F... Connie Booth
Reverend Spooner's speech is quite scary
To anyone quite ordinary
With consonants mangled
And vow'ls intertwangled
Ones point boon succumbs cite quantrary
[Chalky] Excellent ending. :-)
Today be piratically themed
For those who are easily memed [Chalky] Not "kite quantrary"?
Arr, me timbers do shiver
As we pass Yellow River
And anywhere else we have dreamed.
While swimming the Channel one day
I discovered I'd quite lost my way
A compass malfunction
Made me head for the junction
Outside Dover - to Chesapeake Bay...
The Brollys of ancient Cherbourg
Are lined up outside of the morgue
Les petits parapluies
Shield from raining ratatouille
The folks from Frogfunerals.org
Here's what you must do if I croak
Pierce my heart with a stake made of oak
For I am the undead
So you know what? Instead ...
Kill that strange looking werewolf bloke
Whenever I'm guessing I'm wrong
I'll simply break out into song
'Shaddapya Face' would suit my work situation right now
Rings around the workplace
But it's not by Olivia Ong.
Michelle Kwan was skating one day
When a bollard just got in her way
Alas, no triple lutz
For this ice-skating klutz
Hit the buffers, the skids and the hay.
American mothers opine
That plying their babies with wine
Will prevent ADD
But reduce ABC
And certainly make 'em quit cryin'.
When in Rome you should do as the Romans
And scrutinise entrails for omens
A goat's bloody gut
Or a eunuch's old nut
Then make a display - like a showman's
I once met a werewolf from Kent
Who helped me to put up a tent
This kind loup-garoux
Then cooked up a stew
With no meat because it was Lent
I just heard about a new diet
Put some tape 'cross your lips and keep quiet
And if/when you faint
Do show some restraint
When the urge to eat comes, then defy it.
The sticks and the stones aren't worth throwing
Except for the ones that are glowing
So instead I throw peaches
At piranhas and leeches
And cocks that are spitefully crowing
There's nowt like a good cup of char
It beats beer, wine, and coffee by far
And if the brew is Earl Grey
I would have to say
Spot on - award a gold star
A lass with huge melons, I spied
Piss-poor, Kagome. Please expunge your adolescent limerick fantasies elsewhere.
Here's the tale of a limerick prude
Who crudeness in rhyming eschewed
Bad fruit euphemisms
Resulted in schisms
And an effort to veto the lewd
Let's remember the Gunpowder Plot
Which failed; it was Fawked up a lot
Which is why every year
We all stand and cheer
While burning the Guy - what a twot
My mummy has fled from its tomb
Preferring a more deluxe room
It seems its abode
Was home to a toad
Which was held as a portent of doom
My mummy has fled from my dad
For he's a despicable cad
She's filed for divorce
And will join the Dark Force
So all things considered, I'm glad.
My mummy runs pyramid schemes
That claim to fulfil all your dreams
She's recruited her exes
Bought herself a black Lexus
And works hard to drown out the screams.
My mummy is screaming a lot
About the complaints she has got  usa
A wicked contusion
Demented confusion,
Hidden textignoring CdM's 'usa', and assuming commas at the end of lines 2 and 3, for the sake of getting this one completed
And a copious river of snot. Er, sorry - got a code id be doze.
A teenage mother from Brent
Had a neat way of paying the rent
When the landlord would knock
She put coins in a sock
With malodorif'rous intent.
There once was a man who came back [Rosie] Welcome back, hope you had a nice vacation...
To his lone little weatherboard shack
To find that inside
A donkey had died
Which his mastiff had used as a snack
There once was a fellow from Chiswick (Marc) Anything's better than this place. :-)
Who fell ill with a bout of the phthisic
Day and night he was coughing
Though he swore it was nouthing SWIDT? HYDM.
Cause of death? He was too solipsistic.
A toothless old hag in Llanelli
Brewed a strong cup of char that was deathly
Which she gave to the vicar
Who much preferred liquor
And ran his own still called "Y Felli".
The fellows who dig up the road (Raak) People have been keel-hauled for lesser crimes, of course, but there was little you could do.
Hidden text I have only ever known two, maybe three, English people who can make this sound properly, and one had lived in Wales for a short time, showing it to be a question of hearing it because it's not fundamentally difficult.
(Phil) Stout fellow.
Have a secret and unwritten code [Rosie] I wondered what you'd make of that!
"Monday morning at eight-"
"Number 10, by the gate"
Bring biscuits and plenty of woad
My friend the guitarist told me
That every time he plays barred G (taking the stress to be on the middle syllable of guitarist, though there is another way of reading the line that also works)
He gets cramp in his wrist
And curses Franz Liszt
Which seems a bit pointless, to me.
I've realised something profound [Rosie, Raak] There was a limerick on one of these sites long ago where I rhymed Llanelli with "pallor most "delli". 'Course, in that case, the rhyme was perfect, but was only an approximation to the pronunciation of the English word -- a subtle difference from Raak's case. I'm half Welsh, so I can pronounce Llanelli half decently.
Which, I believe, will astound
A single red rose
And a line writ in prose
Will get her to bed in a bound
[C,S,J,M,i] Jolly good - I like a bit of optimism

The problem with getting new teeth
Is the old ones are hard to bequeath
But plant them outside
And treat them with pride
And spread loads of enamel beneath...
To grow a whole garden of molars
One must pot them in inverted bowlers
So all of you misers
And dull early risers
Get digging and make some violas. (Herr B) Sorry, couldn't resist it.
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