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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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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
And that she is not clearly brain death.
I hope when I drop from this coil This theme is a bit deadly, isn't it?
And I'm under six feet of soil
That someone will say
"He was great in his day"
"But now he is starting to spoil"
I'll be pushing up daisies one day
Until then I'll be happy and gay
I'll dance right through life
With one not my wife [irach] LOL--great line.
Never caring what others might say
I'm hoping when I kick the bucket
It will make the front page in Pawtucket
My corpse they'll cremate
In a neighbouring state
And scatter the ash in Nantucket
Apols for 3 lines - I've never done that before AFAIR, but I had an uncontrollable urge.
There once was a doddy old fool
Who fancied a swim in the pool
He made a high dive
Then - heavens alive -
Trunks slipped, revealed fam'ly jewel
I am stuck in this game what 'bout you?
They should lock all of us in a zoo
They could then charge admission
And give no remission
Till at least twenty minutes past two
I haven't a clue what to say
My mind's in complete disarray
I feel so confused
By words I have choosed
I think I'll just go away
Four minutes and thirty-three seconds
It took to peel 43 almonds (tricky rhyming there, good luck to line 5)
Lemonds?
Now her marzipan beckons
So her pastry chef reckons
Pate d'amande sera bien charmante
Desperate attempt to escape the cage with the unconventional ABA*A*B* limerick rhyming scheme.
I've broken my grandma's sledgehammer
While breaking up rocks in the slammer
She was here years ago
Her offense? I don't know
Except she was a wife of Osama
The thing about being best friends
Should be that the fun never ends
How much fun it would be
If we went out to sea
And you dove and came up with the bends
Come on, you've got nothing to lose
From walking in A. Nother's shoes
When you've walked for one mile
You can pause for a while
And sing a song -- A. Nother's Blues
There once was a song 'bout a girl
Who had a wild fling with an earl
Though not born to the manner or manor, if you prefer
She checked in her planner
To find he was down as a churl
Amazing how few rhymes there are for "girl", as I found when writing a song who's hook line ends with it. Pain in the arse for lyricists...
burl, curl, earl, hurl, kerl, merl, merle, nerl, pearl, searl, searle, shirl, sperl, sperle, swirl, twirl, whirl
and my favorite, unfurl
There once was a song 'bout a boy
Who played every day with his toy
He'd first make it stand
With a flick of his hand
In a way that would give him much joy
Then after, he'd fold it away
[Mom] Perhaps I should have said useful rhymes :-)
His mom would scold him, and say
"You're just so self-centered!"
"Come on, get re-entered!"
I do not care to know how this one ends, thanks.
"And finish our last Wordfeud play!" [cfm]Have you got a pervert mind?
The flowers that bloom in the spring, don't you see? Moving swiftly on - I agree with cfm, the last couple were satisfying only one or two *ahem* 'players'. And neither of them were me.
[pen] Agreed. But that line needs shortening. Hope you don't mind if I go:
The flowers that bloom in the spring
Are saluting the birds on the wing
While the bees and the bears
Are putting on airs
and dancing the mambo to swing.
When needing three hots and a cot
I recommend my favorite spot
On Dartmoor it's found
Right behind that black hound
and it's ten quid up front for the lot!
An inscrutable girl from Japan
Went the distance with old Jackie Chan
But the man from Hong Kong
(Still wearing his thong)
Took one look at her mother and ran
I fancy a third cup of tea
But the caffeine does not fancy me
It gives me the jitters
My heart patters and pitters
And worst of all, I'll have to pee
I've three hundred papers to mark
Before I go hunting the Snark
So I'll tick here and there
(Which is all I can bear)
And the rest's just a shot in the dark
On Friday, my mind starts to wander
To racing my gold-plated Honda
Or a ride on my Harley ?
Singin' "Work" by Bob Marley
And dressing a bit like Jane Fonda.
Cross-dressing at weekends for fun
Was a priest's habit, dressed as a nun
To add to the thrill
One more layer of frill
Transmogrification is done
We all seem to relish cross-dressing
It's the sauce for much delicatessing
Once you've chucked on a frock
You're no longer a jock
Which you'll soon come to learn is a blessing
Many good poems lately, in many locations :)
My uncle has just lost his wig
Exclaiming, "I don't give a frig!"
He's now on his knees [Have to divulge that I'd rather hoped that Condiments may have driven the last limerick [given that cross-dressing has been done to death on these sites]. Having been gifted 'relish' and 'dressing' - 'sauce' was an obvious choice, as was 'delicatessing'. Vinaigrette, mayonnaise, aioli, mustard, chutney and ketchup, salt and pepper, etc. could have all played a part. Clearly - I was *overthinking* it. UK - you're fired :-)]
Begging, "Dear Chalky, please"
"Bend over and grunt like a pig..."
[MP] Coward. Name yourself.
So Easter was just wet and cold
[pen] Astonishingly, 'twas not I
My chocolate's all covered in mould
And the poor Easter Bunny
Has a nose red and runny
He's really a sight to behold!
There once was a maiden so chaste
She thought cous-cous had too strong a taste
And as for harissa
Her tongue and her kisser
Fell off, so she had them replaced
I'm wondering what I should wear
Three-piece suit, Highland kilt, or stark bare?
Birthday suits are not fancy
But, according to Nancy,
There's no need to iron or pair
It's been left on the side for a week
And quite frankly, it's starting to reek
It's time to progress
And clean up this mess
So let's finish and go take a leak...
It's Monday and morning star rise
What a bright day - now take my advise:
Take a lungful of air
Jug a two week's dead hare
And don ye a pirate disguise
The forecast for Sunday is wet
That won't stop me -- it never has yet!
I'll be down on the beach
Attempting to teach
The old dog some tricks for a bet
The problem with thinking too much
Is that it give one an ache in the crotch
Cos my organ for thought
Have mind which is fraught ... what a heap of twaddle #channelingRosie
But it's positive thinking, as such...
I have never been able to dance
Do you think you could teach me, perchance?
With both my left feet
I'm willing to cheat
And show how they do it in France
According to French legislation
Islam is an alien nation
But in banning the veil
They'll let every male
Get horny on seeing an Asian.
My legs are all twitchy today
They simply will swivel and sway
I've gone weak at the knees
I don't think it's the fleas
If you don't mind I'll fold them away
[UK, R, P, S, R] Applause

I'm truly beginning to rot
Oh golly, I've been such a clot
Trench foot has set in
I act like a cretin
although I will vow that I'm not.
I'm known for mixing my words
You may sample sweet coffee or turds
So stor a fart
Go tick up a part
And fly like those bautical nerds
A candle-lit dinner for two
Is a popular thing to do
So on Valentine's Day
I will ask if I may
"Is it washing or drying you'll do?"
A trip to the beach might be nice
The sun, sea and sand do entice
With bucket and spade
And a brolly for shade
Topped off with a nice strawb'ry ice
The brain ghosts I see are all green
And they all want to cut out my spleen
Which I have been venting
With zeal unrelenting
Though rarely can it be seen
A phantom is haunting my lung
And now and then spooking my tongue
It wafts through my larynx
Via my nasopharynx
My ability to speak has gone bung
If you see a spectre abroad
It's likely to be Our Sweet Lord
But if the spectre has horns
Then, as the day dawns,
You'll see it's Nick Clegg - best ignored.
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