mc5 - The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated

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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated

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And so it begins....

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Or:
Christmas is upon us
"Oh no it's not!" we shout
"'Tis! 'tis!" responds the chorus
So that all came to nowt

There once was a Limerick class,

For the bad rhyme and rhythm dumbass

When it came to the test

They duly confessed

'Twas unlikely their scansion would pass

Inspired by the moon, as I am

To snort and to rut like a ram

On this cloudy night

I gave Boris a fright

And stole his tart filled with yam.

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Not a great line but...

Today is the day when it's done

I've dared be tattooed with a pun

This indelible mark

Is a jolly good lark

And a tribute to my only sun

Jacob the Third from Dunlevy

Drove round the block in his Chevvy

His miles-per-gallon

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Broke this small poem

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And now it just won't rhyme at all 8o)

Impressed Jimmy Fallon

But the rhymes that he chose were not clevvy Dunlevy? Chevy? Purlease!!! *repeats rant about poor rhyming and scansion from MCiOS*

Body dangling from self-hoisted petard, the spare lanyard from which goes to make up a horizontal rule

[pen] It's enough to make one go out on a bevvy.

(Raak) I need little persuasion.

There's a man outside with a beard

And a cap with three bobbles so weird

He says he's from Spain

And arrived on the train

And he'll stay till the weather has cleared.

[pen]

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"But were poor 'cos the car was so heavy" was ringing in my ears when I wrote the American talk-show host into the rhyme.

My brother is sporting a hat

In which he just looks a twat (Phil) I'm sure he's not.

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He's not, but he does look one in the hat. I saw a photo on facebook this morning, and that was precisely the 2nd line I had in mind

With his knob-ended cane

And arched eyebrow so vain

He looks smart but is still the same brat.

My cuckoo clock seem to be hatching

A plot for a plague that's so catching

The mould in its thatch

Is almost a match

For the lepidote nose you've been scratching.

[Chalky] Thank you for the new word I have learned today.

The lexicographical treasures

Onomatopoetical pleasures

Neological joys

Of semantical toys

To be found in thrasonical measures.

Let us dabble and stolch in the wood

And not do the things that we should

Let us shout, run and laugh

With the riff and the raff

Rob the poor - let's get rich, understood...?

I wonder who's kissing her now?

Probably death - poor cow.

And also who's teaching her how

To make our rhyme scheme more lowbrow

Scansion police

There once was a withered old rose
Whose weak mind was set writing prose
And the non-scanning lines
Gave no points only fines
And the reason for this no one knows…

I still wonder but will never know

Just where did my other sock go?

It's gone - it's a myst'ry

That stocking is hist'ry oblig.

I'll wear odd'uns - d'yer think it'll show?

Random Line Generator

There's just enough time left I think

'Fore the cosmic heat-death, for a drink

A cocktail perhaps?

Or a sherry? Or schnapps?

Or maybe champagne that is pink?

"I am not one of those" - said miss Lola

"Who drinks all that much Coca-Cola"

"I much prefer Sprite"

she said, "though I might

give a miss to that batch marked 'Ebola'"

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Clapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclap

(Projoy) Too late; it's gone viral.

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