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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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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
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?
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'"
Hidden textClapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclap
(Projoy) Too late; it's gone viral.
What Stevie said. I spent half an hour last night trying to thing of a 5th line. Perfect!
I really must try having sex
With a new miss - I don't miss my ex
Come and take me tonight?
While my bloke's out of sight?
Sorry, I'm rat-arsed on Becks.
The inmate in cell number six
Has some rather strange facial tics
His lack of straight face
Ensures him a place
With many famed physical comics.
Really?
I play bass guitar in a band
And I'm using both left and right hand
Which one does what
Is not easy to spot
I'm the fastest jazzman in the land!
[Phil] I also play bass in a band.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RvkZSm68JLE&feature=youtu.be
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eOLmX3PBHS0
[Kim] I don't. I don't even play bass, but I do have a valid poetic licence :-)
One day I was drunk and I sang
But the words got mixed up with slang
I cursed and I swore
And I said, "Ruddigore!"
And what is much worse, cried "Fertang!!!!!"
Three dogs, a goat, and a bird
In a curry; we are not inured
Let's all dine elsewhere
On a hamster eclair
That's preferably shaven - not furred.
If we are what we eat I'm an ox
That has lived in a small cardboard box
Been steeped well in beer
And thus of good cheer
While I am a bagel and lox
I'm sorry, I can't hold your coat
I'm trying to de-worm the goat
If you hold it for me
Making sure it won't pee
I can shove the pill right down its throat "I'll see what I can do, Mr 'erriot"
Today there is wind, rain and flood
And tomorrow brings storm, hail and mud
The day after, thick snow
With a strong Arctic blow It ain't gonna happen, folks.
The year (well, thus far) is a dud
It pains me to point out the truth
But you're getting quite long in the tooth
If I might be so bold
You're quite startlingly old
But no longer the once-uncouth youth. forsooth
I won't tell you a secret I know
Instead, watch this pantomime show
The clue's in the name
Of the bellowing dame
But the answer lies deep down below
A logician, a priest, and a Scot
Was the Reverend Hamish McStott
A writer and thinker
And moderate drinker
Yet best known for his huge you-know-what
Now what is this thing that's so big?
Because bragging is so infra dig
An item of dress?
Or a way to impress?
No, an enormous big flying pig
I exist on a diet of fruit
Which I store in a Wellington boot
The sludge in the toe
I gobble like a sow
Whilst grunting chacun à son goût
I'm really enjoying this pie
Though it has left me wondering why
The ingredients list
Was so widely dissed
What's wrong with dried tadpoles and larvae of flesh fly? (a big and nourishing pie it was...)
When apples and cherries we mix
Something we do just for kicks
We make lemonade
To sip in the shade
And whittle ourselves cocktail sticks A bit lacklustre. Eyes'n'teeth next time, guys'n'gals, eyes'n'teeth!
It's an actor's poor life that I lead
I can barely afford smoking weed
While learning the Bard
Is not all that hard
It would help if I first learnt to read
I've told you a number of times
That I'll never be caught for my crimes
I'm so cunning and smart
That they call me a tart
Moi? I'm the Macavity of Mimes For when a crime's discovered then Macavity's not there!
My mother is losing her mind
Because of a contract she signed
In which she agreed (Pooh) Does that include your own crimes of scansion?
To always wear tweed
And a necklace of smoked bacon rind
We shall soon start the season of Lent
When the rules of abstention are bent
To make us believe
It is now time to heave
BMI by some fifty percent... http://www.seriouseats.com/2011/01/culinary-ambassadors-swedish-semla-fastlagsbulle-pastry-bun-lent-shrove-tuesday.html
Still my Body Mass Index is low
My ribcage is always on show
My skinny white arms
Are the least of my charms
Whilst the best may be felt down below
The means by which pussycats purr
Are shrouded in mys'try and fur
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