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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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Her frightful coiffure
Which was less than demure
Made her look like a bad Phyllis Diller
Let us all now praise the spider
And resist the strong urge to deride her
For her wondrous web
From April to Feb.
Accounts for the insects inside her
Now it's less than a week until Christmas
I'll retire to my own private isthmus
Feast on egg nog and manta
Festooned with diamante
[cfm] Come on, that doesn't rhyme and hardly scans - how about
And, as a present from Santa,
[INJ] A touch of the shoehorn there?
Some glasses to cure my strabismus. Following INJ.
When your scansion is called into question
Be open to any suggestion
Do not post crappy lines
Or you'll have to pay fines
For causing grammatic indigestion
Dear Santa I've been a good boy
So what if I'm Jewish, not goy
I've said my baruchs
And kept off all hooches
A day of good kosher joy
If you want we could meet at the pub
For a pint and a nice syllabub (Slight failure of rhymage in line 4 of previous. Mind you, what English word rhymes with 'baruchs'?
[Knobbly] "loud heuchs"?
Hopefully there's trivia (as for rhying with baruchs - Tuques, kooks, Luke's, nukes, souks . . .)
About Oman or Bolivia
And something resembling fair grub.
I put some crushed ice in my shaker
And added a loaf from the baker
Three jiggers of rye
Two ounces of lye
I'm preparing to now meet my Maker
"NOW THE ENDING IS NEAR - PLEASE BEWARE!"
Said the pilot, when flying RyanAir
Then turbulence hit
And the purser said "Shit!"
And the queue for the loo, c'est la guerre.
There once was a cute little maiden
Whose talent was lovely hair braidin'
Her fingers flew faster
Than light - then disasteru
She saw that the colour was fadin'
A fella with long flowing locks
, a beret and some blue argyle socks
Approached me and said
"I would not be seen dead!
In anything but fancy frocks"
My tailor and I are in tune/b>
Since we danced by the light of the moon
He has measured me up
For the Tailor Dance Cup
Which takes place promptly at noon!
She liked her hair long and skirts short
And to drink: a small lime and port
But question 'her' gender ... interesting that the last ten limericks bar one have been started by the same two contributors ...
Is "she" really a bender?
I'd check but I'd end up in court
As we journey through life, we should try Excellent finish Darren
To have ready a good alibi
And to question the fitness
Of each expert witness
Because folks, given chance, often lie.
The passage from thought into words
Proves tricky for most geeks and nerds ...[cfm,CdM,R,pen] classy teamwork :)
To help their expression
Or fervid confession
They should sing it with flat minor thirds. Bluesy . . . .
Using mice and a furlong of string
I fashioned some low-budget bling
That I'd tie to my cat
In the way of a hat
Which made it quite easy to fling
Spare a thought for the down-trodden vole
Who is often confused with the mole
But the piles that they leave
If you look, won't deceive
'Cos it all comes out of a hole.
Tonight I will go to the pub
For the craic, a pint, and some grub
Perhaps a quick song
Then, if nothing goes wrong
I'll be throwing some shapes at a club
And if I'm in luck, then I'll pull
A fancy trick on a bull
It won't buck me off
If I don't start to cough
And my evening would then count as full.
When I do take the bull by the horns
The damn thing stands on my corns
But after some bellows
My misery mellows
'til I take 'nother Gin spiked with thorns...
My carpenter hammered and screwed
He was quite the industrious dude
He made me a closet
In which I deposit
Young Marc when he tries to be lewd :)
My mother is ninety today
So I'll sing her a song, if I may
"Knees up Mother Brown"
And she'll then go to town
For her regular 'roll in the hay'...
On the telly I saw Doctor Phil
Who said I should take this blue pill
But I took the red
My love life is dead
And the willy now lacks all its will
The firm Williams, Johnson & Dick This crowd is a v bad influence
Has taken a great deal of stick
But these upstanding men
Will, no doubt, come again
And give all your egos a prick. MOVING ON
A day in the country is nice
A breath of fresh air for my lice
And my worms like the view
As I visit the loo
And dispose of my dodgy fried rice.
I'm learning to trust my optician
But I still have a nagging suspicion
He's paid just to flatter
Which shouldn't much matter
As I already have perfect vision
With one of my ears on the floor
And the other one nailed to the door
I'm over-extended
Much more than intended
But my ears do not ring anymore
I think that my tongue's swelling up!
I find my pint I cannot sup
But if I had a straw
Or two, three, or more
I'd sip from this large china cup
One day we will run out of air
You'll inhale--and it just won't be there
And no-one will hear
Your screaming with fear
And there will be noone to care
I hope when I breathe my last breath
Of the fumes from that sweet crystal meth
That I'll be in the arms
Of the great Chelsea Charms
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