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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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As you shamelessly deflate
Though my nose and my bum are thick skinned.
While sorting the junk in my loft
The rafters felt distinctly soft
When I trod on a joist
I felt something moist
That gave way the moment I coughed
"It's a very fine object," *cough cough*
It's starting, though, to go off (gough ough)
The pong goes right through
One's sinuses to
make stuff you'll spit into a trough.
A little tidying up:
"It's a very fine object," *cough cough*
It's starting, though, to go ough
The pong goes right through
One's sinuses tough
make stuff you'll spit into a trough.
The maximum speed of a tortoise
Can never keep up with a porpoise Grabbing the only rhyme.
With turbot installed
And the shell well close-hauled
It'll speed up until it has caught us
However, the rate of the hare
Approximates that of a bear
If your math's a bit wonky
I'm certain that Don Qui-
-Xote will make it all square!
Hidden textRaak: Mortise?
Oh Lord, will you please tell me why
The cyclops has only one eye
Yet still remains jocular
Despite being monocular oblig.
And can't watch 3D movies on Sky.
There was a young fellow from Reading
Whose cat just lay sleeping and shedding
amounts of black fur
Fell out at each purr
And he sold it to Hypnos as bedding.
When at the computer I find
I'm not in control of my mind
So Cntl-Alt-Delete
And get to my feet
And go for a jog to unwind.
Egad! From the taps just a drip This one in sympathy for Raak. Limerick Aid
No bathing - no stiff upper lip
I'll be a bit whiffy
So I'll dip in the Liffey
Just as long as no gals see me strip
It's never the greatest idea
To start a fight on Top Gear.
Now Chris E's the new face
A ginger disgrace
Can you hear a toss given? Not here. Sorry chaps! =)
We're on strike 'cause our wages are low
And we're dealing the bosses a blow
They'll have to cough up
And feed our new pup
Or next we'll run a go-slow
Is the Euro to go down the pan?
The Greeks would cheer that to a man
The Drachma'd be back
Get a meal for one sack
While the rest of you pay, that's my plan!
"Can ya lend me a bob 'cause I'm broke?"
"Being totally skint is no joke"
Haven't eaten for days
(My "austerity" phase)
"Here's a quarter of rum and a coke."
There was a young lady from Thame trad.
Who decided to go on the game.
When she spread out her wares
She provoked several stares
Now she's ninety - still on - with no shame...
Now please sharpen your pen and then write
Of the joys of a Flexifoil kite
Or just jot a few words
On its danger to birds
And the warnings of flying at night
The last time I ate a hot curry
I had to dash off in a hurry
My bowels were a-bubble
In the air smell of trouble
And then the inevitable slurry
well done P,B,S,M & R!
On the way home last night - a kebab
Then to A & E for a jab
Seven stitches then home
Wrapped in urethane foam
And then off for six long weeks of rehab
I'll pay for my meal with some rupees
E'en here in Stockton-on-Tees (KS) -You'd have got better rhythm if you'd just left out the word "some".
This Chicken Madras
Spiced with pure Sassafras
Will bring me down to my knees
/hr seems not to be working.....?
I really must protest dear sir
The print on the label's a blur
The tin may have leaked
'Cos my kitchen, it reeked
And smelled like some rotten liqueur. (Rosie . . . um, nope, sorry . . . "Lines 1, 2 and 5 of a limerick should ideally consist of three anapests each" My first line has three anapests just like a limerick should . . . now, as for Stevie's line, it doesn't).
Compare and contrast with English as she is spoke and limericks as they be scanned:
I REAlly must PROtest dear SIR: correct metre, but "PROtest" is the noun.
I REAlly must proTEST dear SIR: "proTEST" is correct, but the metre is trying to be a different verse form:
I really must protest dear sir
This printed label's just a blur
The tin it leaked, my kitchen reeked
And smelled like déclassé liqueur.
I'll PAY for my MEAL with some RUpees: correct metre and word stress but difficult to rhyme with.
I'll PAY for my MEAL with some ruPEES: extraneous "some".
I'll PAY for my MEAL with ruPEES: correct metre, and the stress in"ruPEES" is also correct.
There once was an expert who knew [Raak] Many thanks dear Sir for the lecture, we needed it!
Fuck all about making a stew [Raak]
Hidden textSorry, the stress doesn't turn it from noun to verb in my neck of the woods and it sounds just fine when I say the line out loud. I've never heard anyone call them pro-TEST songs either. So, all-in-all, Thrrrp! 8oP 8ob 8oP
The bucket of gravy Wade in, chaps.
Supplied by the navy
Had a frighteningly bright crimson hue.
"We've defeated the Spanish Armada,"
Cried Drake with consid'rable ardour
We chased them round Britain
So now they're once bitten [Raak]
Hidden text I think KS was claiming the line should be read as 'I'll pay FOR my meal WITH some ruPEES', which is (sorry KS) a very odd reading, given that it requires stressing propositions that would most naturally be the least stressed words in the sentence. As for Stevie's line, my sense, which dictionaries appear to confirm, is that 'protest' as a verb can be stressed on either syllable; I'm not sure if the stress on the first syllable is primarily Am. Eng., but it might be. That said, I do--like you--find the stress on the second syllable to be more natural for the verb.
They'll realize that we are much harder
It's Monday and i'm feeling bored
So I pull the emergency cord
The ejector seats fire
And as I rise higher
"Where's my parachute?", Oh dear Lord!
Those men in their flying machines
Eat nothing, so it's said, but baked beans
And for their own part
The beans will impart
With brown stains on the back of their jeans...
Are you sure that this airplane is safe
Are you sure that this airplane can fly?
If it's safe we can certainly try
So shall I take the stick?
Get aboard and be quick
Just don't tell the pilot! Bye-bye! [Marc] chafe, strafe, waif, Ralph? :)
The dark clouds that are blocking the sun
Remind me just what I have done
As Guildford lies flattened
And seemingly patterned
It's a shame it can't be undone
I've wiped out the Jewel of Surrey
She was hot - kind of cuddly and furry
With a come-hither grin
And a rather square chin
So don't click that link in a hurry
If Guildford's a jewel, what's Dorking?
'Bout 4 hours away, if you're walking.
But if you're on a bike
There's a pub you might like
So step on! Stop standing and gawking!
I thought that I'd broken my wrist
When I swung at your mother, and missed
As my fist hit the wall
The last thing I recall
Was her cackling at me "You're pissed."
So here I sit, in the ER
With my elbow stuck in a jam jar
The sixth hour has passed
I'm having a blast
While the doctor slips off to the bar That's probably not fair and could cause a storm of protest, but all for the sake of scansion and mirth.
The weirdos who live on the hill
Have put all their pigs on the pill
So no little porkers
Will get nobbed by rogue orcas [Softers] Oh, I do so like a challenge...
And think what they'll save on the swill.
The chaps at Piers Gaveston think
That life is all orgies and drink
Countess Marg'ret de Clare
Had better beware
Lest she'll end up in the clink which she did, BTW
In a small, central part of my brain
Is a place ornamented with pain
It's the fault of my mother
'cause she killed my big brother
And it's likely she'll yet kill again.
A student of madness would think
"Funicular! Crucible! Blink!"
or perhaps, "nadge my toes"
Or "nobody knows"
That I normally crap in the sink.
I've bought myself a winter coat true
It's made of weasel, fox, and stoat I think we've just invented the iambic limerick. Lines of 4, 4, 2, 2, and 4 feet and the usual rhyme scheme.
It's wholly organic
So no need to panic
The collar is made from the arse of a goat Adding a few syllables as a reasonable compensation
The good folk of Accrington, Lancs
Were often mistaken for cranks
They spun round and round
With a murmuring sound
As their only football team tanks
This island is home for the night
Although it's a quite gruesome sight
The ferry has sailed
The banshee has wailed
And I'm stuck on the Isle of Wight.
There's a rumour that's doing the rounds
That my head makes peculiar sounds
That's 'cos it's hollow
And so, when I swallow,
There's a noise like the baying of hounds
I have heard there's dog on the moon
Whose bowl is in fact a spittoon
His kennel's a crater
Around the equator
His cries won't be heard 'til next June
I hope that my bonfire will light
So I can fry bangers all night
With a can of cold beer
I shall quote lines from Lear
"O, thou side-piercing sight!"
"Guaranteed from boot-to-bonnet!"
That's Clarkson's first go at a sonnet
It could have been worse
If he pictured a hearse
With luck he could have be on it
I awoke to a fine morning sight
Of the hay in my barn set alight
The insurance will pay
For my next holiday
Due in just a fortnight
I simply don't know how to start
My new sixteen horsepower go-kart
I yanked on this string
It went 'wicketi ping'
And then the machine fell apart.
So I cussed and I brandished my spanner
In typical Clarksonian manner
But Jeremy and Kelly
(Them two off the telly)
Have ordered the parts from Fermanagh
The business of ordering parts
Proceeds both in fits and in starts
Look at the book
Ring them up; they're in Nuuk
And deliver by husky-drawn carts.
When eternity fits in an hour
I barely have time for a shower
But when deadlines draw near
I quiver with fear
And withdraw to an ivory tower
My Cumbrian fell is a-flood
My "carpet"'s now three feet of mud
The rain doesn't stop
Needs more than a mop
And the switch on my ark is a dud
Will it rain now for forty more nights?
Will it reach the top rain record heights?
Because if it does
We'll call out the fuzz
To claim that we've got human rights.
So Christmas has come back around
And Santa, I've heard, is southbound
With his over-full sleigh
He may brighten our day
As he slips in with barely a sound.
Oh my dearest I long for your kiss
Though I fear your technique's hit and miss
Your French kisses I love
They are just hand in glove
And I do care that you are my sis
Farewell to a very poor year
The weather was shite, that is clear
So let us revive
The jitterbug and jive
And party with burgers and beer
I will not stand for whiny complaining
In spite of long immersive training
Though I must say it's wrong
To moan all day long
When the rhymes here are SO entertaining
So farewell then Bowie: bye Dave
You did all the genres, save rave
And for that, we're in awe
'Though our tear ducts are raw
For ecstasy beyond the grave.
Sometimes I cannot resist
Adding whisky to my shopping list
It goes on with the gin
Make our heads start to spin
As slowly we're getting pissed
Hmm.
It's time for a jolly distraction
Like Longleat or some such attraction
Or maybe we could
Stroll through Odell Great Wood
Watching grass growing slowly in action...
Then she said: "I'm lying in your bed"
And I think that butler is dead
So I said, "Call Poirot!"
But Mycroft said "No!"
"We'll eliminate the impossible instead."
To the greenhouse I summoned the cook
"Over there!" I exclaimed. "Take a look!"
"The tomatoes have rust!"
"The sprouts turned to dust!"
He's from Yorkshire, so said "What the fook?"
While I stood in the Post Office queue
And I hoped for position two
But the fellow in front ...careful...
With a snort and a grunt
Said: "I'm stuck. Who the hell spilled that glue!"
The cyan-ACrylate glue sealed his lips
On the table he had fish and chips
But unable to eat Hello Cook
His cod-and-spud treat
He studied the lunar eclipse
It's the year of the Monkey, beware...
That you dress with attention and care
And stop making faces
When you tie your shoelaces
God! You're not doing that with your hair????
In accordance with Standard 14
You must paint your front door in sludge green
Lined out in puce
Or else we'll reduce
The money for being Europeen
The good folk of Chorlton-cum Hardy
Were known for their love of bacardi
When applied to the skin
It was better than gin
And creme CeraVe - it's too lardy
The Burghers of Port du Calais
Have been whooping it up at the Palais
Now the jungle is flat
They think that is that
But more migrants will be there next day.
Last summer I swam 'cross the Channel
Wrapped in the finest of flannel
My expensive pyjamas
With their imprint of lamas
Were hidden behind a pannel.
There once was a fellow named Clark
Who was quite afraid of the dark
So he switched on the light
And got a great fright
As he found himself next to a shark.
It's due time that you upgrade your app
Or else you may fumble your snap
The latest UI
Helps you shoot on the fly
But the editing suite is pure crap
What time does the ferry depart?
The minute that I've found my chart
And topped up with diesel
And fed my pet weasel
But this is Condor and we're missing a part
The Andean Condor's huge wingspan
ex-ceeds the width of my fry-ingpan
And so to sauté it
I bent it to fit
Which spoilt its vocal range, or sing span. Dreadful.
The first day of Spring has just sprung
And I feel like a stallion I'm hung
I'll be frisky for sure
And with all my allure
I'll hide what Spring has just sprung.
Hidden textHey, Lear repeated words in his limericks
There once was a fella named Lear
Who said that he felt a bit queer
When asked what was wrong
He burst into song
And demanded I bring him a beer.
I've a problem with one of my glands
My prostate's come off in my hands
Just squirt it with glue
Then fixate with a screw
Then to hold it in place - rubber bands
There's a stock room of spare body parts
For my practice of ghoulish black arts
In the box labelled "Noses"
Nothing's smelling of roses
And some carrots, Jack Frost's private parts.
The question is free I've been told
But the answer will cost all your gold
Not "The Meaning of Life?"
"How To Murder Your Wife"?
No, it's down the river you're sold
"We are sinking, please finish your soup,"
"Use the loo - we mustn't leave poop."
And then take your turn
As the ship starts to burn
To play "Nearer, my God" on a loop.
It has eight legs! It's there on the floor!
How'd that Octopus get in the door?
It's fresh from the sea
And it's smarter than me
And my God it looks just like Al Gore!
In the land that we now call Iraq
They're proposing to place a blue plaq
On a house in Baghdad
A home for jihad
Where there once lived a young man called Raak
Can you eat up the rest of this flour?
It won't last much more than an hour
We must not let it rise
Or else its sheer size
Will swallow up Shipston-on-Stour
'Tis the 400th year of dear Willy
The bard not the whale, silly billy
After four hundred years
His oeuvre appears
So much better than Milli Vanilli
's
It's May and the sap is a-rising
The new cider looks most appetising
So come all ye drunkards
Lift up your tankards
(Whose contents don't bear analysing)
Through the blossom and meadows I dance
Gazelle-like I pirouette and prance go for it, pen
But, hid by this sedge,
Is my five fruit and veg!
And all of them produits de France
Well, that was an odd one. I hadn't expected that.
The world of Gerard, Count of Nice
Was described in this nice press release:
A Master of Biscuits
Despiser of Triscuits
In quantities from "un" to "six". Sorry [pen], let continental-themed weirdness abound. Nevertheless a stylish finish from [Pablo]
[Meadow Dancing pen] I expected at least one person to post about not wearing any pants. I was going to on line two but thought it would be a better punch line for line five.
In the city of Aix-la-Chappelle
Danced Penelope, like a gazelle
Is that Stevie - both are nude!
In his hand - gee that's rude!
I just hope that they don't kiss and tell
While I was tending my garden
I received from the Queen a full pardon
Writing long lines that don't scan at all
Sent the Sovereign right up the wall
Causing her stance on such infractions to harden.
An infinite number of monkeys
Assisted by five EU flunkies
Rough-drafted a treaty
UK rules for graffiti
To reserve it for registered junkies.
To work out the square root of pi
Please first the last π-digit quantify
Then by taking the log
And a sly sip of grog
You'll be fine - just bluff your way by.
It's one and a bit!
When time, space, and knowledge combine
With superior shape, form and line,
One ought to be dazzled
Or even brain-frazzled
By the stuff that's produced - it's all mine!
When you think you are ready you're not
And the things that you got, you ain't got
So live while you live
'Cos life is a swizz
What you've not got can fester and rot.
Could this chicken be up to fowl play?
From my vantage point, hard to say
It does seem inclined
To sneak up behind
'Til a cock crows and gives it away
It wasn't a fowl 'cos he dived
A move, as in football, contrived
With a kingfisher's grace
To fall flat on one's face
And a red card from the ref is survived
Monday morning - the struggle goes on
To house-train my iguanodon
I'll be hailed as a wizard
Of incontinent lizard
Where a nose-peg's a sine qua non.
I've managed to train up a gazelle
To fart without making a smell!
This flatulent trick
Involves mud and a brick
An ending occurred, but I already had a go -
Hidden text- And it will win me the Ig Nobel!
And a diet of silica gel. (Bis) V. gentlemanly
As I looked out me window last night
I could not but notice a slight
Nasty nip in the air
Though the weather was fair
Fukushima was within sight.
When you're leaving Japan please make sure
That your thoughts and your deeds have been pure.
For the Shinto religion
Protects even a pigeon
From charges of being "manure"
I'm wearing a lightning conductor
Made of copper as per my instructor Stormy in Clogland, pen?
's advice. He was right!
Look what happened last night -
Prematurely discharged when I...engaged her in consensual acts of an intimate nature.
One red carrot I've offered my horse
It bit off my fingers, of course
But aren't horses veggie?
But they can be quite edgy
As my A&E can endorse!
Oh woe is me, I am undone
I thought it was comic and fun
But alas and alack
Everything has turned black
Can we undo the referendum?
So, what is he going to do now?
While waiting to take his last bow?
Will he come 'round again?
Or collapse in great pain?
Or renege on "resign is my vow!"
I'll resign again and again and again
The meaning of this is quite plain
What I've wrought is at hand
I am unfit to stand
If you voted for me then you're insane.
However, I may just bounce back
On my elastic hypocrisy track
As plan B starts fail
My brave face turn pale
I surprise the whole world with my quack.
Let's clear out the old, bring in new
And toss out the false, bring in true
Give us hope, peace and love
And harmony, aw'right bruv?
I've told you 'bout sniffing that glue!

Mercy Killing invoked.
Software - Let us clear out the old, bring in new
Stevie - And toss out the false, bring in true
Marc - Give us hope, peace and love
Rosebud - Olive branches - white dove
Peacemaker - And one day our dreams will come through.
What we need is a quick coup de gr?ce
Oh woe, it doesn't take extended character sets...
What we need is a quick coup de grace
And, should such a thing come to pass,
Don't say "Coo de Grah"
Lest you prompt a fnarr
Then we kill you with pure poison gas...
When you leave will you please close the door
Or the whole house will smell of your spoor
"daw ... spaw ... spaw ... daw..."
Your best friends haven't told you
That fungus on you grew
The day you came back from The War
Men of Harlech! The Zulus are risin'
Dead are heap'd with dying! (How surprising)
On to Bulawayo!
I'm declaring this one a bad steer on account of poor scansion and attempted forcing of people to type something about Ketshwayo instead of opening up vistas of wit. My fault not entirely
Down the church hall they're all on parade
To acclaim killer Stevie's blockade.
Harlech's W.I.
Hidden text[Stevie] what did you have in mind when mixin' races like that? That Zulu chief was far from my mind, it was more a challenge to see what could be found on the Bulawayo road, summat like: Men of Harlech, the Zulus are risin'//Dead are multiplying (How surprising)//On to Bulawayo!//Where the darkies we'll K.O.//Thus apartheid loomed on the horizon.
Went on an excursion to Skye
They sailed o'er the sea
For a nice cup of tea ...normal service etc
With a Talisker dram - oh aye-aye!
There was a young man from Prestatyn
Who saw a knob and pressed that in
A twenty-ton weight
Was released and fell straight
on his head - the result was to flatten
Way back in my Ministry days
In charge of Hampton Court Maze
I engaged Alan Turing
Thus firmly ensuring
That we're leaving the Maze walking sideways. (Alan didn't walk straight, did he...?)
Back then, I commanded the troops I think I'm heading for trouble with this one.
By Jove, I'd them jumping through hoops!
English as she's spoke
With a fnoot sull of coke
S'like impossible hooptroop de loops
How about:
Back then, I commanded the troops I think I'm heading for trouble with this one.
By Jove, had 'em jumping through hoops!
When out on parade
Primed on neat lucozade
They lined up in sugary groups
My afro is fulsome and pert!
Likewise my black rubber skirt Today I am a hovercraft
I'm dressed up so nice
My chin dabbed with Old Spice
You must think me a terrible flirt!
My tonsure requires some repair
It's become overgrown, here and there
In the cloister, it's said
I look like Judge Dredd
A parable I think is unfair.
Do you mind if I ask you to shave?
Yes, I do; I'm going to a rave
It's not OTT
To grow a goatee
In the shape of a stone architrave
Why aye man, Irn Bru's just the thing
At a "Spinners" reunion in Tring
It puts hairs on your chest
Which women detest
So go gay, and let MEN pull your ring. It's OK, I already picked up my coat
The gas-man is mending a leak
Hidden text(Pj) You are disgraceful person:-)
And he uses the latest technique
Of taking a match
To set fire to the thatch
- next thing, there's a blood-curdling shriek.
No smoking! No pipes! No Cigars!
Says the sign in the passenger cars
When I need a good puff
I call the guard's bluff
It went wrong. I was put behind bars!
Now that Hamish has finished his tea
He'll meet Dougal, just wait and see...
And, inspecting his flask
Its contents? - don't ask
(...it's a mixture of Bourbon and pee.) Coat please...
Enough of the Scots! Let's talk Swede!
It's a thing all my vegetables need!
My turnips want more
It's a bit of a bore
But it helps when they start to set seed.
There was a young lady from Bude trad
Allergic to all sorts of food
Nuts, gluten, and soy
She could never enjoy
Their effect on her bowels was just rude
There was a young man out of Rhyll Redressing the balance a taff tad.
Who ran up a huge restaurant bhyll I blame the spellchecker
By scoffing ten courses
He thereby endorses (pen) One "l" in Rhyl. Hard luck.
Credit card use at the thyll
The goddess of love (name of Venus)
Is wearing no clothes - it's tawdriness
She steps out of her shell
But - Dear God - the smell
Being locked up so long is quite heinous
And lo, the seasons doth change
No more hay-fever, now it's the mange
Or frost-bitten toesies
Hidden text(Stevie) Stand nearer the soap
Get out your knee cosies
Home sweet home on the (kitchen) range.
I've been equinoxed twice now this year!
An excuse to break out the beer
And play Jean Michel Jarre
Loud, in my car
Hidden text(Bis) Not quite yet. The equinox is at 1422 UT, 4 miinutes away as I type this.
While doing a ton in first gear
[Pablo] Did you pass me on the motorway this morning?

Roaring past at a hundred and ten
Pablo altered the volume and then
Jean Michel Jarre
Howled out of his car
What an earful for fearful young pen!
Let us dance a Dark Morris to bring
An end to this ludicrous fling
Do some hop 'n bop 'n
To rhythms forgott'n
Then your hook you can sling
While waiting for Godot one day
I think that I thought - 'come what may'
Was a bad Abba song
That stood out from the throng
Coz they sang it in G - should be A
It says not to try this at home
It's a thing you can do with a gnome
But please to take care
When you do it and where
Don't forget your protective Styrofoam.
Use a Styrofoam hat when you bike
With Styrofoam pants, if you like
Then add Styrofoam socks
To ward off hard knocks
It's a trick they used in the Third Reich.
I shall take my laboratory rat
And feed it five kilos of fat
Grow it big as a dog
Then inject egg-nog
And see if it goes for the cat.
Could be, there's a Nobel in this
We can make IPA from my piss! [Sorry Phil, if you're watching]
So, pen, get drinking
And never stop thinking
And telephone Greene King
Hidden textOo-er... simulapologies. Sorry.
That recycling realy is bliss
That brew of the gods, IPA
So don't let anyone say
It's just flavoured water
And drink it you oughta
With a smile, right after you pay
Hidden textFor the record, one really has no high gound to stand on if one goes where that last-but-one effort went so quickly.
I've launched a crowdfunding campaign!
Hidden textThe poor man's Nobel?
To design an intelligent brain
With some High-Tech connections
I've high expectations
Or it's 50 grand straight down the drain
Oh well done everyone! Crisps all round!
[Stevie]You are handcuffed and arrested for inferior rhyming. Here are samples of some correct choises: affections, collections, complexions, confections, convections, corrections, defections, detections, directions, dissections, ejections, election's, elections, erections, infections, inflections, injections, inspections, objection's, objections, projections, protections, reflections, rejections, selections
(Stevie) I think he means choices but what do I know.
[Rosie] I like his/her use of "correct" as the compliment of "inferior" myself. And my response is, as always, that the commentator, having asserted their superiority, is now free to indulge their love of sex and that of travel simultaneously.
Choose your words carefully, now
And enunciate "How now, brown cow?"
And make sure not to write
That the kids is all right [Rosie, Stevie] Hiding behind a pseudonym? Never a good stance for those assuming the role of scansion and rhyming police, nor for Brexiteers for that matter.
For some lurker will make you kowtow.
It is words that maketh the man
Just so long as they rhyme and they scan
Hidden text[Rosie] I think he meant options. There was only one choice to be made. Also, I wonder why 'election' and 'objection' were rendered in both plural and possessive form. Ho hum, we shall probably never know.
But what makes the lasses careful now...
Is poetry classes
Someone should tell Princess Anne. (pen) penult. Not guilty, Miss. The rather bumptious miscreant remains at large.
(Softers) You bin up nawf or sunnink?
Princess Royal - how lovely thou art
E'en when your horses do fart
From a surfeit of hay
Carrots, lentils, and whey
Don't stand too close when they depart.
Good heavens! Don't make such a fuss
They'll all think that you're just a wuss
Stop that complainin'
Just cos it's rainin'
And it's three hours before the next bus
"Give me your arm", said the nurse
While I half-inch the cash from your purse
We're not paid enough
So we have to get tough
But Brexiters' promises are worse
Re: BREXIT: The will and the way
Are frankly in some disarray
Why Article 50
Is getting more shifty Oblig.
And further away by the day
The tabloids are ranting of treason
It's their spleens and their bile that they're easin'
But their ignorant bile Can't call it anything else...
We must take with a smile
Till the count's in. Then comes the apeasin'
Enough with this democracy!
A tyrant's what we need
Who will make up the rules
Not giving a bugger about what works or not
Just like the players of this game
I think a glow-worm was struggling to get out there:
Enough with this democracy!
A tyrant's what we need.
He'd rule without hypocrisy
By one rule: his own greed.
Enough with this democracy
Let's try a spot of anarchy
No political boss
No giving a toss
No Don and no Hil bugging me

Just off the top of my head, in stream of conciousness. My start was good and offered an easy array of pertinent rhymes. Everyone else was to blame. I'm keeping these crisps. 8oP
I preferred the original.

In matters of scansion and rhyme
We abide just some of the time
But when we do not (Raak) It was, and my fault too. I'm 73, you know.
We react on the spot
And wax wroth in interpretive mime.
Hidden text[Rosie] I'm only a decade and a bit behind you.
Dear Hill'ry don't cry - you've got Bill
I'm sure he can give you a thrill
With a Cuban cigar
So nothing can mar
Your joy at the ring of the till.
That's it, for another four years
We'll hear nothing but wailing and tears
And old Lady Luck
Appears to be stuck
And you're all quite correct in your fears
When all the "Trumpettes" start yelling foul
I'll cover my head with a towel
You're donning a turban?
How quaintly suburban!
We Valley Girls wear "Hillary's cowl." that'll do.
Way up on a peak in the Andes
Or down on the banks of the Ganges
One stands and one stares
One mutters one's prayers
While lighting regretful our candles...
The Siberian Filigree Hamster
Hidden text Glad to see Marc is keeping up the tradition :)
Foreshadows a rhyming disaster
So I'll have an orange
One rose that is yellow
Schadenfreude to make Superman swear?
Tradition is seldom surpassed
By stuff that relates to the past
Nostalgia is fine,
Hidden textOoh, I swear... I can feel a Stevie-level strop coming on for that previous limerick treatment :)
Like a noble old wine
But the future goes past rather fast
The meaning with Christmas I think
Is that it's a good time to drink
I can't be the first you're welcome
With a seasonal thirst
But that punch looks suspiciously pink.
This year I'd like Santa to bring
The album Herb Alpert Plays Swing
And a Rover P6
A timepiece that ticks
And a furlong of Number Two string.
Scrooge said, "Now that old Marley's dead,"
"His riches are now mine instead"
But three ghosts made him see
Things quite differently
As one by one they turned up in his bed.
Bob Marley, a singer-songwriter,
Once asked me to lend him my lighter
To stoke up his spliff
And I would've done - if
I could find it. Where is it?, the blighter. I lose things, everything, all the time.
While drinking a small glass of sack
Guess who bumped into my back?
A small, forlorn elf
Who looked like Will Self
For both reasons, he went on the rack.
One for Stevie, as he asked :)
While I rode on the LIRR
I tuned my acoustic guitar
To the key of B flat
As we all sat and sat
But the train didn't move very far
Choose a chord, and then play it with speed
A G minor sixth's what you need
Modulate to E flat
F sharp with that
A very nice ringtone indeed
[pPRSS] A masterpiece for cellphones indeed...
The Finger Print Lock for my phone
Will exclude any omi palone
But if I lose my touch
Or get drunk, or some such
It unlocks with the right type of moan
My telephone's battery is dead
So I think I'll try shouting instead.
At least I won't squint
Or cast it to print
That you put in the shredder unread
We will soon see another dictator
Little Donald, whose motto is "greater"
His first action will be
To grope girls (two or three)
While tweeting "Obama's a traitor."
I just found a bunch of "fake news"
While tweeting "Obama's a traitor."
I just found a bunch of "fake news"
According to Trump, it's abuse
And badly written, to boot
Himself to disrepute
The world thinks he has blown a fuse...
Will they give him a standing ovation
Or just give him a straight flat castration
I'm hoping the latter
Cos castratos are fatter
So fat chance of shafting the nation
This Friday the First Trump will sound
And our dreams will crash down to the ground
Cometh hail mixed with blood
An avalanche of crud
Or a dollar worth more than a pound
But the man isn't president yet! 33 hours at the time of posting...
Sorry, 45 if you count up to midday on 20th
Soon he is and to all that's a threat
The nukes do his bidding
(Don't think he's kidding)
And then it's Auf Wiedersehen, Pet
There once was a loudmouthed clown
Who stuck his name all over town
On a poster that said
"Wanted: Living or Dead"
They shot him, and then he piped down.
A big fat notorious lier
Is the state to which marrows aspire!
For every courge's
Desire to be bourgeois
Grinds the people down. Ready! Aim! Fryer!
My lies are alternative facts
So your claim that my previous acts u.s.a.
Are truly obnoxious
Is thoroughly poxious
Same to you, no returns, to the max.
The last Jedi, alone on a hill
Stared wildly at his cell phone bill
His vast roaming charges
On spacefaring barges
So he hides - but they find him at will!
In an X-wing outbound for the Death Star
I was munching on a Mars® bar
When the Admiral said
"Right - full steam ahead!"
Then we crashed into Star Alcazar
My august predecessor once said,
"If you don't make a million, you're dead"
Now I sell p3n1z p1llz
Made of porcupine quills
Will you test them tonite in your bed...?
"Dear Sir, I am not one of those"
"Correspondents whose flowery prose"
Obfuscates my true meaning
My gist needs no gleaning
It hits you right there, on the nose.
My new novel will be out next week
For a giggle, I wrote it in Greek
And I used pseudonym
Jakob Ludwig Karl Grimm
But the press let my real name leak.
Christ almighty this bad weather sucks!
You'd think that El Niño's in flux!
Snow, hail and fog
It's not fit for a dog
It's the fault of those pesky Canucks.
My moped won't start, so these chocs
Won't stay very long in their box
A sweet compensation
For utter frustration
With a martini, stirred, on the rocks.
Mister Bond with a license to kill
Took position on top of Box Hill
His Sig Sauer set ready
His aiming arm steady
He knows there is no better thrill.
When it gales I'll mither and gall mis-using word types wild
The mizzle will bother and fall
While rainth and sleetch fail
It's time for the shail!
And the frog shall obscure parts of Gaul.
This coffee I made tastes like paint
And just a slight trace of boar taint
I should have used water
'Cos it clogs my aorta
Can I sit down? I feel faint
This paint I've just mixèd tastes sour
I hope it won't spoil happy hour
Lemon juice is the base
With TiO2 paste
With my tins of paint I make art
With my jars of jam I make a tart
For my name's Jackson Pollock
And with my third bollock
I'll redirect every fart.
Here's a few of my favourite things
Suckers and contracts with strings It's the Trump in me coming out
This ball of blue wool
This pint glass that's full
And a nice poker hand with five Kings.
Have you heard the sensational news
There's a tax to be placed upon pews!
A surcharge on the kneelers
No discount for dealers
So whatever you do, you will lose
I hear that they plan to tax farts In honour of the government of my home nation, who several decades back proposed a fart tax on cows because of their methane emissions. Carn the Kiwis!
And use it to promote the arts
We'll be arty as hell
Despite the foul smell oblig.
Emanating from our nether parts.
My kiwi is acting all strange
Could be myxomatosis or mange
I don't think it's rickets
Or harassment by prickets
More likely it's sex interchange.
I've been thinking of you ever since
You showed me those black and white prints
Nostalgic it was
To remember, because
They're before all those crap pastel tints
I remember that back in the day
The catchphrase that people would say
Was "splash it all over!"
"Have a roll in the clover!"
Or "Go ahead, punk, make my day."
Nice one all. Simons Mith wins the internet.
I spoke to the fellow in charge
About hiring a quinquireme barge
He told me his boat
Would just about float
And the slaves came without turbocharge.
When you're rowing make sure you've got oars
Or you'll struggle to get to new shores
To the oars, add a boat
One with rowlocks, please note
And some friends who can help - eights or fours
While trying to seduce Doris Day
You were punched by Rock Hudson, you say?
It was all in good fun
I was dressed as a nun
And everyone knows that he's gay
At a hog roast I met Steve McQueen
Where I told him his hog looked piss green
So he took me aside
Said: "You'd better go hide,"
"Or I'll rip out and swallow your spleen."
Hidden textI guess no-one wanted to play into the double meaning of "hog roast"
While watching the Titanic sink
I thought, "What I need's a stiff drink."
So leave out the ice
And don't mind the price
Singing "Nearer, My God, to Thee", I think.
Raise your voice let us all sing along
As the world goes to hell, sing this song:
"Toodle-oo, toodle-ay",
"Zippa-do-dah, de-ay"
But it won't stop things going wrong
If you sing "Rule Britannia" off-key
You'll upset the world order, you see
So you'd better shut up
And just drink a cup
Of thick, brown, lukewarm NAAFI tea
Gadzooks! Odds bods! Lack-a-day!
I was just now outbid on ebay!
The thing that I want
Pour ma fille débutante
Was sniped, but that's fine - I can't pay.
I talk to the trees, but in vain
I get blanked (is that planked?), in the main
Though one answer I've got
Is that they all talk rot
Ooh! Must run! It's the Whitecoats again!
The voice in my head said last night
"You ain't Einstein, now would I be right?"
For all of the thinkin'
And smokin' and drinkin'
Deceive me to think that I'm bright.
P, S, Ks, R, M - splendid.
Whenever there's lightning about
Your golf club do not wave about
For Zeus hates the game
And you'll be to blame
When you've been reduced to grout.
When it's cold up at 'mill, then it's time
To drink a large lager and lime
In the Rover's Return Oblig.
(Some folk never learn)
To enjoy and live life - it's springtime!
From "Pea and honey...", a quatrain that was rejected owing to its limerick-nature.
My ancient Marina still goes
Like an elephant in its last throes
Hidden textBismarck masquerading as Raak, for convenience
With motion unsteady
I still get it ready
With or without any clothes...
We will sail with the tide, get aboard
Bring your pirate hat, rum, and your sword
Practice "Gyarr!" and "Landlubberrr!"
You scurvy deck-scrubber,
Till your accent is slightly less flawed
The echo in here is quite odd
I said "Who's there?" and got the reply "God."
My hearing aid batt'ry
Straight from the fact'ry
I am sure was an ungodly fraud.
In the the Liverpool Echo today
"Ken Dodd Has Been Charged With Affray"
The Diddy Men claim
That his pantomime dame
Started it with her hairspray.
Meanwhile, oop north in York
Adele had a battle wi' Bjork I know that's not how Bjork would pronounce 'Bjork', but by 'eck it is 'ow a Yorkshireman'd say it.
They both donned t' clogs
Took t'bats and t'dogs
They don't care how the neighbours will talk
When Shakespeare put pen to paper
He could write a jolly good caper
With lots of cross-dressing
That had the queen's blessing
And swordfights with epée or sabre.
Gadzooks, forsooth and odds bods!
Facebook posters are miserable sods
They say "Look at mee"
And, "Wow, you're sexy!"
And post pictures of food - well, ye gods!
See my mouse! See my fresh Charlotte russe! I'll give you pictures of food... and internal rhymes on every line too!
As with gusto I wave my wand thus! You're catching an accent there if "mouse" rhymes with "russe", pen...
Hey presto! They're gone!
Dammit, I meant 'mousse'!!!
It's a visual con
Then she left with the five o'clock bus...
Then the busdriver asked: " Who are you?"
I said I was from Timbuctu
And I wanted a ticket
He said "Don't be thick, it.....
Costs four quid. You only dropped two.
Who knows where the fifty nine goes? While we're on the buses - see what I did there?
Check the front, that's where it shows
"Timbuctu via Kent"
Why, it seems heaven-sent!
A des(s)ert of apples. Who knows?
And then three came along, all at once
A burglar, a vandal, a nonce sorrysorrysorry
In a cell they were placed
Spun three times, and then faced
A chap who was clearly a ponce. What other rhyme is there?
It's my fault things are as they are
You could have done better by far
By ignoring me quite
A lot out of spite A torch burning there in the sconce / A man who clubbed me in the bonce
If I could change Stevie's line to It's done out of spite:
Signed: Beelzebub. BWAHAHAHAA!
[Bizzers] Mate, you can't. If you can't work with the line provided, step back and let someone else do it. Ironic really, given that this Lim is all about 'you could have done better' innit?
[Bismarck] Your replacement line doesn't really follow the previous one smoothly in my reading of it, providing a mental derailment when the whole limerick is read through. Good finish though.
I live and learn. [Stevie] "Quite" as in "completely", and it would need a semicolon. So a poor effort overall.
There's no choice to make but live and learn
Said the discouraged author Jules Verne
sotto voce Funny, that first lined scanned this morning when I wrote it
There's no CHOICE to make BUT live and LEARN
said the DIScouraged AUTHor jules VERNE. Where's the problem? Nine syllables each line. Stress on each third syllable. Job done.
(pen) Have you been at those Hobnobs again? That first line is far too long. What about
No choice but to live and to learn
Said discouragèd author Jules Verne.
So he threw down his pen
Resigned there and then
After final full stop he adjourned.
Tom Stoppard wrote plays that are puzzling
And summarized thusly: "man does thing"
His philosophy is
'Tho this ain't a quiz
That breasts are for guzzling and nuzzling. Coat!
One day as I ran for my train
With an unusual thought in my brain
"Why is Brian Billick…" Do-or-do-not Rhyme declared. It's good to be back.
So useless at Cyrillic"
Then I tripped and my ankle did ??????
Wot happened there? I wrote "sprain" in Cyrillic; it looked fine on preview and then went awry when I clicked "Stand".
I guess you sprained the website.
[Kim] This is a frequently encountered ????????.
Something not quite ?????? about the Unicode ?????????.
The ultimate fate of all glass
(Mostly that of the "superfine" class)
Is to be blown and then cut sailor
And to wound someone's butt
While not being mistaken for brass.
I don't really care for this rain:
Loudly I curse but in vain
But still, it is better
It's finer and wetter
But not as warm as in Spain
The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain
But five iambs do not make limerick metre.
The rain doesn't fall here in Spain
A god job too; there's only one drain
It's blocked up with leaves
"Get it clear, Jeeves!"
"Or we'll be flooded all the way to the Seine!"
At a meeting in Trumpton town hall
Was decided to hold a great ball
So Barney McGrew
Did all he could do
Makin' moves, takin' names, standin' tall
Now harken ye unto my words bit pissed actually
That fly from my mouth like the birds
Do each to each other
Though I'm your big brother
You're swimming this pond filled with turds
Five pints and two limoncellos
For myself and these very fine fellows
Lads and lassies; A toast!
We salute our great host
Who's the owner of these fine bordellos...
When it rains, like it did here last week
With no paddle, I'm up the creek
The Thames is all flooded
London's all muddied
Perhaps the Flood Plan needs a tweak?
Whilst taking some stuff to the dump
My car coughed up its fuel pump
So I dumped the car too
In this outside loo
Next time on a bus I will hump
A dirty old man on a bus
Held his belly in place with a truss
This thing itches, said he
As he scratched his left knee
Which promptly oozed mountains of pus.
A dirty old man on a train We might as well work our way through all of this in one go then move onto something more tasteful.
In a raincoat 'though there's no rain
Attracted attention
But I'm loath to mention
The revelation his knobby old cane Mine's the Pitt jacket, thanks
My Tinder account has been hacked
My front patch of lawn has been fracked
My driveway undermined
My steeple inclined
…Has my Guardian Angel been sacked?
I've heard of a dastardly plot
Of drones to be hacked and taught     Silly little things.
Airborne death from above
Like a turd from a dove ?
Sounds sweet but stinks quite a lot. (DrQ) Interesting use of this.
[Rosie] The Low Back Merger. Snigger.
Facebook's become quite a bore
And Twitter just seems like a chore
Instagram; MySpace;
(which is out of the race)
And Tumblr and G+ I abhor!
As I rub-a-dub-dubbed in my tub
Hidden textThey can't touch you for it!
In the bath fell my USB hub
I lost my connection
And a very small section Obviousness avoidance invoked
Of data, then started to blub
On the thirty-third day of September
We were told, and will always remember:
Tis the Feast of St. Bart
When there's cucumber tart
From now till the end of December
I once took a trip to Penzance
Just to by a brand new pair of pants
With a piratey flair
And a glittery glare
Then I found in my pants there were ants
I've booked a staycation in Tring
Come what may - we will make anything
Until it Herts
In my Google alerts 'Say what you see' Dusty Bin wildcard invoked
To see TripAdvisor's rating. - "Get out of logical framework free" card played
Hidden text "Improvement" of a previous Lim... Sorry Marc!
I once took a trip to Penzance
Just to buy a brand new pair of pants
With a piratey flair
And a glittery glare
And flares three feet wide - Elegance!
Today when I opened my post
It got smeared with some hot buttered toast Never open letters at the breakfast table.
The letter inside
Was sixteen feet wide
'twas a note of demand from my host.
"Dear Sir, it's regarding your rent,"
"We need currency, sir, not intent"
"Your kids as security"
"To ensure their futurity"
"Is a legal non-starter (in Kent)"
I remember it cost two pound ten
But that was in - oh, way back when
We used L s d
Now it's pound coins and pee
Here's a cheque. Can I borrow your pen?
I pay with my smartphone, you see
I'm a smartass, there's no one like me
But my phone cost a bomb
I said with aplomb
It's a shame that it's only 2G
I have to inform you, young man
That if you drink beer from a can
You'll lose the scent
So if that's your intent
You can get in the back of the van!
That blank look takes over my face
When someone says they play bass
Or fondle their fiddle
Or drums a paradiddle
And it's time to get out of this place.
Within short I will make a comeback
Papa baffs na go give um dey sack declaring pidgin wild
All along the Zambezi
I'll make it look easy
Because I just have the knack
My guardian angel looks down with fright.
At the things I get up to at night
Under cover of dark
I sneak to the park
And give the shins of lovers a smite.
From next door, there's an awfully loud din
As the neighbours play drums on their bin
With saucepan lid cymbals
Played loud with thimbles
While I jam on my old mandolin. (Hi George!)
There once was a talented writer
Whose fans thought her such a delighter
That at her book signing
They just stood there, pining
For the off-chance they each might just sighter
These new Kindle e-book hacks suck "hack" as in bad writer; they abound in the Kindle self-publishing world.
On lemons as they write their muck
The resulting acidity crap scansion
Ends in lividity
At the rubbish you get for your buck.
Five Bitcoins I've got in my purse
They're better than cash - quite perverse
For they're not really real
Though easy to steal
They're easy to spend, and that's worse.
There's a hole in my new christmas sock
That fits snugly around my cock
However, it itches
When inside my britches
So I line it with large leaves of dock.
Moving swiftly on...
Let us think of the coming New Year
And deck ourselves out in flash gear
And I promise you this
I won't take the piss sorrysorrysorry - it was asking to be done
Which means that I won't be a Peer (Claims Worst Pun of 2018 So Far Award)
Now I've shuffled the deck - will you deal?
With twenty-five cards? You for real?
With no aces or kings
We've no arrows nor slings
But fortune outrageous, I feel.
So, now the New Year's under way and no naval types try to tell me it's "weigh" please...
And I've escaped the vile Opus Dei If we are talking the Warring States period of China, it could be "under Wei"
So our future is bright
To pursue the good fight
To bury Theresa May.
There are Tories and Whigs at my door Seeing as we are going political
In big herds never seen heretofore
For Tandridge foments chance'd be a fine thing
'Midst back bench laments
While we blankly ask "What's it all for?"
In Bangalore there's someone called George
Who went to the Marble Rocks Gorge
Where he laid out his tea
At a quarter past three
With Messner, Mutschlechner and Dorje.
There once was a thinker named Kant
Who encountered a large elephant
Which viewed him suspiciously
Then charged him quite viciously
Hidden textThat vicious and viscous won't get me again like it did at my 8th grade spelling bee!
Hence Africa: A Mad Kant 'Phant Rant.
When I was a child in 8th grade
My one wish was to see a parade
Where the Grenadier Guards
Would light their petards
And put Manneken Pis in the shade.
He made once a shocking mistake
Confusing the clutch with the brake
The resulting collision
Caused a minor division
Of his spine which then gave him a backache.
When the moon goes into eclipse
As it orbits its usual elipse
Its super blue blood
Turns the colour of mud
The same colour as Aunt Hilda's lips...
Her lips filled with Botox were blue
Like those of my other aunt, Sue
And her daughter, young Shelley,
(Who's been on the telly)
Got the same effect from a tattoo.
It will soon be St Valentine's Day
And every chaste maiden cries HOORAY!
But a bunch of dead roses
Shoved under their noses
Won't take their chasteness away
[Software]: "chase", surely?
I once, in the season of Lent,
Spent thirty-nine days in a tent:
Eating corned beef and beans
With a helping of greens
And sat with my bum to the vent.
On the last day of Lent I gave in
I was getting quite dangerously thin
So I binged on ice cream
"Wild thinged" the whole team
Then threw up in the bin
And then threw it all up in the bin.
Could today be the first day of Spring?
We'll know just by checking one thing:
Has the groundhog appeared?
If he has he is weird!
If not his hook he can sling
There's never much snow on the ground
At least, not where I'm to be found
In far Timbuctu
Where I sit on the loo
Performing while folks gather round.
I once met a chap in Tibet
Who flew around on a carpet
Levitation you know
Is a nodding dog's show (I'm taking a carpet to be a small stuffed animal sitting on the parcel shelf.
Well, just how kitsch can you get?
There was a young man from Goonhilly   Family Show declared.
Who did something ever so silly
At old Jodrell Bank Careful now...
Well, I gotta be frank
He lip-synced to Milli Vanilli
Well done! Everyone pick up their Whitehouse Awards at the door.
'Tis true that there's snow on the roof
And it's bleedin' cold aht, that's the troofEastenders variation invoked
So if that mahfy cahhh
Wiv an arse like a saa
Shouts "brass monkeys", well, she's just uncouth.
It's snowing again. What a thrill
To go jingle my bells with a will
As I ride on my sleigh
As I did Christmas day
Now it's over - please hand me that pill...
Left hand down a bit. All stop. REVERSE!
Navigation? Well this is perverse!
Is the blindfold essential?
It tests your potential
Of posting your lines in free verse...
Good grief, is the sun coming out?
It's not - so shudda your mouth!
This wintery spring
When the birds ceased to sing
Has put 'Global Warming' in doubt (the author would like to acknowledge that weather is not the same as climate)
In Downing Street there's this old girl
Whose life is a dizzying whirl
With her mates Don and Boris https://img.huffingtonpost.com/asset/59bfe4ba1a00007100f073b5.jpeg?ops=scalefit_630_noupscale
Dancing the Brexit Morris
But the sight will just make you hurl
Lord Buckethead, now. There's a fellow
He seems to be quite sane and mellow
But his good friend Lord Sutch
Was a little too much
He wouldn’t just scream, he would bellow.
The news of today is insane
Some doctor transplanted his brain
Leaving him dead
Wi' nowt in his head
Is it time for elections again?
Have ye seen the white whale that I seek?
I heard it wis here just last week
It usually lurks
By the old plankton works
Which made ten tons a day at its peak.
I like that one. Crisps all round.
[Stevie] Thanks! crunch Mmm. Plankton.
I fear I must write in complaint.
That they're calling Churchill a saint.
'Cos everyone knows
From his head to his toes
The complaint re: this "saint" is:- He ain't!
In Limerick once lived a lad
Whose personal hygiene was bad
'Twas said that his stench
Could be sensed by the French
And drove all within twenty feet mad.
I asked a French mate about that
He sucked on his teeth and then spat
"Ça me fait chier"
"De sentir ses pieds"
And that was the end of our chat.
Body language is hard to ignore
Like the way that you just slammed the door
I get the impression
You've succumbed to depression
And don't give a toss anymore
Nice one everyone. Crisps all round.
I spread joy as much as I can
(It's easy in my ice cream van)
The power of a flake
Or sprinkles will make
You feel much more like a man
I am sure that it was a mistake
To serve ice-cream on top of a steak
My meat à la mode
And the juices which flowed
Proved my Michelin star was a fake.
May the fourth be with you and your clan
Today's May the fifth; change of plan
But we'll still catch a ride
On the outgoing tide
Sailing fourth in a black garbage can...
My Yacht "Miss 4 Sail" is for sale,
She's a great little boat for a male
She's sleek, trim and yar
For some pretty Jack Tar
But will sink without trace in a gale.
I'd quite like to buy a new boat
For sailing around in my moat
I'd be out with the tide
And the laundry beside
Is efficiently washed as I float.
At the Inn named "Y Knot" in old Cowes
Sat a sailor with knotty eyebrows
He’d accost every stranger
With "You - Percy Grainger?"
When he'd drunk more than five curaçãos.
What is your pleasure, then? It's my round.
At this, the old codger just frowned
"I'll give this one a miss"
"For I'm off to the loo"
To piddle all beer I have downed.
A cold shower's a good start to the day
Or a swim in the cold Hudson Bay
Just slap on some grease
Point the satnav at "Nice"
And tuck all your tackle away
The occasional bellowed profanity
Shall not discommode our urbanity
Though we know that it will
If it's heard in Seville
Because they lack basic humanity
I remember a chap from Brazil
Who claimed to have found Yggdrasil
Unfortunately
twa's exorbitantly
Faked from paper-stuffed cavalry twill
I once met this god from Olympia
Whose garb could not have been skimpier
In wine, he would swim
Thus keeping in trim
Though his drunkenness made him seem wimpia
I have here a one-metre rule
That has ferules that are really quite cool
And a legible grading
(Although it's now fading)
After long frequent use in the school
I don't think that I've seen one of those
Being used in the way that you chose
But improvisation
Gets my acclamation
As a wonderful artistic pose
Now these you can buy by the yard
They start soft but then go really hard
They're not thixotropic
Nor yet hygroscopic
CDs with the movies "Die Hard"
In my youth, I would go around with
A load of yobs from Penrith Pedanticus writes: It has to be pointed out that the "th" in "with" is voiced, making strict rhyming impossible. Using Welsh is not possible because the stress would be on the wrong syllable. The only solution to this impasse is to assume marked Caledonian chararcteristics on the part of Superman
Although we came via
Hidden textRosie: I was always under the impression that myth, blacksmith, and monolith rhymed with "with"
The Mull of Kintyre oblig.
No-one among us was a sound-smith
8o/
I was hoping we'd get a Sith in there somewhere.
(KagShu) I'd say the difference is like the difference between the th's in thing and there, this, that etc. I don't think there's any difference between American and British English on this point.
[Superman] You can hope, and you can stack the deck with a difficult rhyme in the first line, but in the end you get no more say in the finished product than if you'd played a move that offered wide-open possibilities to everyone else.
In my youth I'd knock about
With the grandson of Ebenezer Prout
He was fun, was young Fred,
It's so sad, now he's dead,
He was, though, a bit of a lout. highly unlikely
(Raak) I have here a copy of Prout's "Counterpoint, Strict and Free". It was bought by my Dad in Tunbridge Wells and he has put the date (Jan 18 1941) and his name and address on the flyleaf. The address is in Crowborough, where I was born, but I've no idea if it was where I lived for the first two years or whether it was in one or both of two other addresses in said town. Should've asked - bit late now. Prout's volume you could call "severe".
My father, a violinist, had a copy, and my brother, a cellist, no doubt looked into it during his musical education. I was always puzzled by where all of these rules came from and what their purpose was, but I could never get an explanation.
On steps to Parnassus I climb
Just taking one step at a time
I breathe the thin air
As Fux he did dare
To write seven-part fugues: so sublime!
[Raak] The "rules" spring from what is considered consonant and dissonant, views of which have changed throughout musical history. Hence you can end up with a fugue like that in Walton's 1st Symphony, which would have Prout screaming in his grave. All good clean fun
(Pablo) Never double the seventh. Beethoven does it all the time.
I tried my hand at the flute
As well as the ven'rable lute
After while I gave up
And took to the cup
- And that was a lot more astute
[Rosie] Be even more daring and have the 7th rise!
I once wrote a charming duet
And performed as a crooning cruet Leaving every other rhyme for 'duet' available for subsequent contributors. I'm all heart.
I made quite a showofit following penelope's lead, but see source for suggestions if you think you just bluet
Or at least made a goofit To my reading duet is a masculine rhyme, so all that needs to be rhymed is the final syllable
And got to the end with no sweat. (CdM) Agreed. Didn't know that was called "masculine"
But it's more fun the other way, and the ending begged for some suet.
[Stevie] I refer you to your own comment in this forum last week... you can beg for suet all you like!
Very truet.
Won't someone please give me some suet?
I once had a packet but blew it
While chewing the fat
I found a dead rat
That I grilled in a lickety split.
Grilled rat is a delicious meal
When served on a bed of fried seal
Do not overcook it Anticipating a marked boreal presence
And immediately book it
Before it has time to congeal and now, for some taste....
Bon viveur? How I mean to live well!
Champagne Charlie thinks I'm quite a swell
I'll be quaffing the bubbles
And downing the doubles
But don't overdo it, Ma'moiselle.
A sip of the bubbly's divine
But cabernet's equally fine
And Asti is nishe
If'sh kept on ishe
Though Château d’Yquem is top of the line. (Anno 1811...)
A pint IPA, if you please
And some crisps - make them onions and cheese
And for my good friend here
Teetotal, I fear
Juice of orange, with ice, freshly squeezed.
A round of the optics is just
What you need when your business went bust
It will make you see clearly
And we ask you sincerely
Do you give a shit? We’re not fussed. whoever drew the tits as their moniker, would you please not do it again? Thanks.
On a bright Monday morning like this
One feels that one would be remiss
Not to breathe the fresh air
Or pick a ripe pear
And set forth on a day full of bliss if only...
Gad! The heat! And the dust! And the flies!
And the moans and the groans and the cries!
And the tropical nights
And these nylon tights!
All this for the Man Booker Prize.
When hit in the face with a cod
You must keep a firm grip on your rod [Raak, Stevie, Marc, Simons Smith, Rosie] I liked that one, especially the end - bravo...
Which sounds a bit bawdy
If you're northern or Geordie
But for everyone else just sounds odd
The fighting technique of the hake
Is not that unlike that of a rake
It lies peacefully there
Without any flair
And then suddenly strike like a snake.
I'll tell you about my pet shark
It will bite off your head for a lark
And fingers are tasty
So my bathing's hasty
While the shark barely marked poor old Marc
Ten fingers but only nine toes,
If you're a diver then that's how it goes
When the dreaded bends
strikes, it often portends
The poet's descent into prose
When we've been away at the beach
I've tried hard my children to teach
Not to play with the sharks
(Who're known for their larks)
Nor to pick up and eat a live leech.
A dose of the old writer's block
Does not mean that s/he's now an old crock
Take a break, smell a rose
Drop a rock on your toes What? I get very creative with improvised speech when I do this
And continue to brood 'round the clock
The best beer is brewed round the clock
But you could be in for a shock
When straining the wort
Finding it's made from yo-gort I know, it's very bad, but come on - https://www.foodandwine.com/beer/how-to-make-beer-from-yogurt
With green squidgy lumps — mind your frock!
After drinking one beer you pee three
Maybe you do but, truly, not me
'cause I drink only wine
So my bladder is fine
I drink Scotch, so my wee is, well... wee.
Here's a tip for making an ale
Out of mushrooms, old socks and a snail
Add a pinch - just a pinch -
Of penny-an-inch A rare variety of heather whose dried roots are used as a herb. Its Scottish folk name derives from it being considered a great extravagance.
And boil it all up in a pail. (Raak) Cheaper than HS2 nevertheless.
Home brew can be quite a hobby
At least if you are not too snobby
You can make a nice stout
From a well-aged breech-clout
But beware when you do your next jobbie.
While drinking at home is just fine
You shouldn't be doing a line.
But Vitamin L   may variously refer to lifestyle, light, love, or LSD
From my artesian well
May lead to substantial decline
The vitamins A, B and C
Are absent in Worthington E
About B I'm not sure?
How it's made? What it's for?
And is it worth 2 points or 3?
"Oh my dear, have you got one of those?"
"I had one, which got stuck up my nose"
But I've one nostril free
Which is crucial, you see,
Should I wish to smell a wild rose
Step 1: take part A and part G
Step 2: Screw them gently on B
And if you've no idea
Just ring up IKEA
You'll be put through to Sweden - for free!
This flatpack has just saved the day! Well done everyone, especially on the last three lims
Especially as Gran's on her way
It's a beautiful coffin
To send her off in Ta, Super, set up nicely there :)
On her way to the far Milky Way. Sorry Gran, see you soon out there...
The first-ever granny in space
Took a brolly with her, just in case
Of rain upon Mars
Or dust from the Stars
Spoiling her heirloom white lace
My mother said that I should not
Complain of my God-given lot
But I feel I'm deprived
As I have not arrived
Where by now I should surely have got
Five cats, three dogs, and a moose
Were misguidedly let on the loose
They frightened the horses
And caused two divorces
And trampled all over my goose
How do you get down from a duck? holds breath
It's largely a matter of luck keep holding
One foot on the ground
Then spin right around
And beware not to crash in the muck.
I've a worrisome growth on my knee
It measures a foot, inches three.
I should go to the doc
He'll laugh and he'll mock
(It's shaped like a banjo, you see) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oh!_Susanna
My doctor just gave me this pill
That was made by a tribe in Brazil
I see machine elves
Hidden textsqueaking, jewelled, self-dribbling basketballs made of grammar and light
Indulging themselves
To the point where they make themselves ill
I'm trapped in this 'ere Klein bottle
And my only companion's a wattle
It's lonely in here
And I've run out of beer
A little won't do, but a lot'll.
If your glass is half full - ask for more
There's plenty more booze in the store
But if they run out
You need not fear a drought
There's a cellar-full under this floor
The "trend" is now artisan gin
I hate it, don't count me in
It's flavoured with sprouts
And it gives you bouts
Of hives, as it says on the tin.
Have you heard that the jailbirds don't sing?
Except for the ones in "E" wing
Who'd better watch out
They've got all the snout
Though the Warden just found their bling-bling.
I've a bee in my bonnet this morn
'Bout the number of voles being born
In our Highlands pristine somehow just started reading that with a Scots accent and it just went on
So loved by our queen
Where the owls that eat voles have all gorn finishing in a silly upper-class accent
There once was a scholar of Erse
Who studied the odd and perverse
For instance the tuba
And the grammar of Luba
To find mysteries of our universe.
Behold! I can see a great light
'Tis a beacon of hope in the night
But hang on a mo'
'cause your eyes are aglow
In the mirror they make quite a sight
An owl brought a letter today
From the timelords of old Gallifrey
The message ran: "Who"
"Might be able to do"
Miracles? - it ain't Mrs May"
I once knew a lady named Claire
So sweet and polite - but beware
Her angelic smile
Displayed with much guile
Did not touch her thousand-yard stare.
A request for Santa this year:
A little less reeking of beer
"Oh my dear, it's too late,"
"For the Beer Keg of Fate"
"Meets the Bibulous Beardie," I fear.
What to do with all this fruit cake? DadaDAH(smallpaws)aDAHdadaDAH was how it ran in my head
It's a mountain that dwarfs the wine lake
And this turkey, what's more
Could feed forty-four
I think I'll have a stomachache!
Whenever you're drinking too much
You can be sure that your rhymes will go futsch or phutsch
Your speech will then schlur
You'll pause with "oh er...."
But the courage you'll have will be Dutch
Falling gracefully off of my horse
My language was of course coarse (Superman) I get a strong feeling you have tried to start a Pea and Honey Recipes.
And the bump in my head
Which my grandmother read
Told a tale of coarse horse course remorse
nice
Chalky - Instead of just taking a bite
Grab a mouthful with gusto tonight
Your brash mastication
Is a sure indication
That back from the pub you're quite tight
The pen of a pig is a sty
The pen of a writer asks "Why?"
A pen-aid-ed shell
As a cell we can smell
And there's one pen who waved us goodbye.
The last thing I do before bed
Is to check that I'm still not quite dead
The result of this test
Along with the rest
Makes me feel that I'm still newlywed...
Have you noticed Spring is on its way
Well it's early - come when it's May
No, come now, I'm frozen
Vests by the do-zen
Just who led this winter astray? mercy killing
You must always make sure you are right
When walking The High Line at night
Should you lose your direction
Just ask a policeman
Hidden textNo one seems to want Pablo's offered rhyme so fuck it
Who'll tell you "Hey Mac, take a hike"
My cat is a fearsome ratter
And eats other animal matter
Disgusting? I'll say!
Please take it away
To a place where old cats are made flatter... ;-)
If you're aiming to get a flat belly
Give up Coke, burgers, beer, and the telly
And go for a run
Don't eat that bun
Though I think you can binge-out on jelly
A cynic who lived in a jar
Hidden text https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diogenes
Smoked Capstan Untipped (they're high tar)
Drank unfiltered beer
But what's more severe
Drove a Volkswagen diesel-fueled car.
laffed out loud. Well done everyone
This reprobate jar-living bloke
Ridiculed orthodox folk (Juxt) I thought Dodgynees was a retired footballer
Alexander the Great
Was the butt of his hate
Since the rich are all scum when you're broke (Rosie) You're thinking of Soccertes
[Juxtapose] Soccertees handled the merchandise.
All those years that I spent learning Greek
On my way to be Monk Dominique
Have tired my poor brain
But yet, then again
Cézanne was a bit of a freak
I have here a pint of best porter
With which I shall do what I oughter
Just sink it in one
And when it's all gone
I will pee at least one foam-topped quarter.
One Gallon of beer is enough
To serve all the guests at my trough
But a pint don't go far
It's well below par (Marc, penult.) See a doctor.
Red Barrel; t'would make a saint gruff
"It's Real Ale™ or nowt!" cried the lad
"Joost like it was for me Dad"
No Watney's Red Barrel
No flashy apparel
But e-cigs By't dozen, By Gad!
One pint IPA if you'd please (Rosie, I ment a quart of a gallon as I hope everyone else understood)
Three packs of crisps (onion and cheese)
This feast for the senses
Removes one's defences
'Gainst multiple Sky Sports TV's
There once was a lady from Surrey I have a great fondness for the classical forms
Who, determined to supper on curry
Took a flight out to Delhi
Made the air e'en more smelly (Juxt) Yeah, trad is best. BTW all women in Surrey are ladies and generally rather expensive. I live in Surrey, the rough end.
Got Delhi belly and left in a hurry
I sticks to me good old pork pies
Baked into a sandwich, with fries
Add ketchup, to taste
And thus I'm never faced
As I make them in double full-size...
The answer to most of life's ills
Is contained in this bottle of pills
With a tamper-proof lid
And the price is ten quid
Just remember me in your wills.
I tell you, there's nowt wrong with me
Except for the pain when I pee
But a wee bit of chemo
Plus doses of Nemo
Will fill me with glee when I wee-wee
I'm driving sans DC and A
Stevie, to get into the spirit of this a bit, what's DC&A? C&A I know about...
When the British police feel they have a case to be made against someone for a traffic violation involving a collision of the putative defendent's vehicle with another or a piece of public or private property, the catch-all summons that can be relied upon to result in a conviction when, say, driving while impaired or dangerous driving are unlikely to be provable to either a judge or a jury of the defendent's peers, is Driving Without Due Care and Attention, which is demonstrably true since driving with due care and attention would preclude crashing into things, and is referred to by the rozzers writing out the citations as "Without DC & A".
Stevie - I'm driving sans DC and A
And you'd better get out of the way
My foot's to the floor
And I'll tell you what's more
This time I'm gonna make hay.
My car is a late model Ford
But I wanted a '32 Cord
But the grille, what a mess
Was defect, more or less
So come back when you've had it restored.
Whilst combing my hair I was shocked
'cause the 'thing' in the mirror it talked
It said back to me
"You're not real, don't you see?"
"That just now, reality forked?"
He was born by the side of the sea
Though which side we'll just have to see
On this side of the pond
It's clear there's a bond
'Tween Donald and PM May, T.
There once was a piper from Kent
Whose youth had been gravely misspent
With billiards and booze
And the odd drunken snooze
None of which he had tried to prevent
My Dad was a sensible fellow
With a deep voice and rather loud bellow
He'd keep me in check
By grabbing my neck
And force me to leave the bordello
Each day when I get out of bed
And see I'm alive, and not dead
I shout "Yay! I'm still here!"
Drink six pints of beer
And ask if I'm really still wed.
In a cave in the high Himalayas
It's mild - you can shed a few layers
And the bonze that sits there
Has really no fear
For the Yeti they've named Zacharias.
I hail from the island of Crete
Where minotaurs roam in the street (It's a little known fact.)
No prisoners they take
Though it is piece of cake
As large bull-heads are easy to beat (Marc: eh?)
My family all come from Malta
Impossible, sadly, to alter
But once they got here
With their Cisk Lager beer   (Nice to see you, pen, nice).
My CAMRA credentials did falter
I'm a product, alas, of suburbia
Not the outback of deepest Australia
I mow my lawn weekly [Dujon - pushing that one a bit..]
With my mower uniquely
Designed in a way to disturb ya.
I'm afraid that we've run out of ink
And that's much much much worse than you think
The pen yields to the sword
Which cannot be ignored
So we're now pretty much all down the sink
I've got a strange longing for pigeon [muttleee] Hello!
At the same time discarding religion
I'll just get the cat
And a grim scabby rat
And stuff them all into a widgeon.
When given a fecund first line [Tuj] Hello! Feels like I've never been away...
We'll fec it up in record time [And the cheesecake man's back as well, at Dan's, along with a gaggle of aunties of questionable authenticity.]
With approximate rhyming
And dubious timing [muttleee] Well, you've still got all your vowels, you must be in good health
By our standards, that'll do fine!
They've invented both Twitter and Mail
Though some thinks they're just a fairytale
The virtual world
Into which we've been hurled
Is surely now destined to fail [Tuj] The best. :-)
Our grim fate comes nearer each day
So frolic, get bladdered, make hay
You only live once!
So let's do as the Huns,
And start a rumbustious affray
Here's my friend, Attila the Hun
Who's frisky and so full of fun
When he's out with his horde
Putting folk to the sword
Then downs the odd mead when he's done
I took a short break down in Devon
Which compared with Dunoon is nigh heaven
Here I met little Sue,
Who was from Dunoon too
And stood at just four foot eleven
The painting that hangs on the wall A blank canvas for you folks
Is by that bloke whatcher'm'call
He didn't paint many
To sell at a penny
It's that famous Batiste de Saint Paul!
That Lisa's a bit of a Mona
Though she gives me a bit of a boner
Her wee mystic smile
Filled with Botox off style
Has beguiled for as long as I've known 'er
While pruning my roses today
At first cut my left thumb went away
I stuck it back on
But the feeling had gone
I've now heard it'll come back in May
Dear sir! That's your dick not your thumb,
No it isn't. You think I do nude rose pruning? You think it's prehensile? You think I can't tell the difference?
The good folk of Dwygyfylchi maybe not
Examine your left index finger
Make sure that it's not a ringer
Now point it like this
And make sure you don't miss
(Good advice for an opera singer.)
I was singing the part of "Otello"
I admit, it was more like a bellow
But I hit every note
With a bray like a goat
Or the sound of a mistreated cello.
After two pints of beer you pee three
After three pints of pee you feel free
So let it all out!
Mild, bitter or stout
If outdoors, at the base of a tree.
In this bottle, there is some shampoo
Which was made by a relative, who
Blended kangaroo milk
In a vat made of silk oblig.
But it has made my hair look quite new
I wash my toupée with this soap
On days when I feel I can't cope
When I glue it back on
(Yes, I know it's a con)
It has shrunk so I look like the Pope...
In Pope-Look-Alike contests, I suck
Some gobstoppers, to bring me good luck
The judges, however
See through my endeavour
But give me some points for sheer pluck
As she silently slunk down the stairs [p,S,R,B,P] Oh, nice!
She took me quite unawares
From behind my back
She launched her attack
Now I'll never produce any heirs Ouch
But she did try to make some amends
And restore me as nature intends
By a surgical trick
She re-lit my wick
My candle now burns at both ends
By Jove it has been a long time
Since wordplay I've seen so sublime (Softers) Dirty bugger
Take care of the metre
Do not be a cheater
And accomplish both reason and rhyme.
Catherine wheels, sparklers galore
Are really a bit of a bore
Petrol's more fun
So get ready to run
As it reaches the dynamite store
A parcel, marked "Use at own risk"
Contained a fork and a whisk
So into the bin
Went my old theremin
Along with its old floppy disc.
Now look what's arrived in the mail
An ad for Kentucky Fried Snail
Their delicious fast food
Considered quite crude
Except by those who quaff ale.
I'm guessing Kentucky Fried Snail is slow food . . .
Christmas is coming, deep joy
Let's piss from The Old Man of Hoy
In the teeth of a gale
Drink buckets of ale
Just like they do down in Fowey.
Has Christmas gone yet, oh God please?
It has left me right down on my knees
Let's finish the wine
And take down the pine
Then sail once again the seven seas.... See you next year...
Are you sure that you know how it works?
It seems to be moving in jerks
It jumps and it sputters
Built by complete nutters
But watch how its huge big end twerks!
If you have a case of the trots
A Samsonite case will hold lots
Or a big plastic bag
But it sounds like a drag
(This verse has been written by bots)
It's better as ink when it's runny
But my goodness! It smells rather funny
I detect faecal notes
And the entrails of goats
I'll flush it all down the dunny invoking Oz slang
Now hearken ye all, MC types,
Ye must cease to use Pampers wet wipes
They clog up the drains
As they clean up your stains [oblig.}
And no-one likes unblocking pipes.
The sewers, in heat of the summer,
Smell like John Selwyn Gummer
As autumn begins
It's the Eagle twins
All in all, a bit of a bummer
I've sawn a bit off of a Beemer
It now can't keep up with a steamer
If I stick it back on
Is the guarantee gone?
Yep, it won't be a redeemer
My Mercedes-Benz went into flames
And came out to roaring acclaims
With scarcely a scorch
Of its paint to debauch
Those Teutonically engineered frames.
I tried putting wheels on my yacht
And this is as far as I've got:
Just two to the port
From a pram? The same sort
High-tech this solution is NOT.
The V8 that powers the pram
Runs on butane, palm oil and jam
The noise that it makes
ENSURES BABY WAKES
Hidden textFOR PITY'S SAKE EITHER TURN IT OFF OR FIT A SILENCER! MY EARS ARE BLEEDING!
And sounds like a dithyramb.
My restored '69 Thunderbird
Drinks gas at a rate quite absurd
It acceleration
Provokes deglaciation
– I'd not even known that was a word
The good folk of Walton-on-Thames
Are addicted to brûléeing crèmes
And once it's been brûled
This middle-class food
Requires many trips to the gyms.
Bzzt-twang! Rhyme only works in South Africa.
The gits of Newcastle-on-Tyne
Go on benders with Carlsberg and wine
They stop all their diets
Cause mayhem and riots
– By regional standards they're fine.
In order to preserve my sanity
I cultivate o'erweening vanity
As I go through the day
I hope and I pray
For an overall drop in inanity
I find talk of weather profound [Simons] Lovely last lines for the previous two...
Deep in a flood, I'll be bound
This dire cyclonicity
And damp synchronicity
Confuses my poor little hound.
If you want to bamboozle a dog
Just dress him like Jacob Rees Mogg
In top had and tails
With manicured nails
And not keep going to the bog.
When Corona was just a drink
And the world was not yet on the brink
We thought it a lark
To have fun in the dark
Social distance at zero (*wink wink*)
In a cupboard, while playing "Sardines"
I wished I'd not eaten baked beans Nice pay-off, CdM
My flatulence there
Was too much to bear
And I melted a hole in my jeans
There's a trick to op'ning canned beer
For one thing, wear the right gear
Take dagger and cloak
Give it a good poke
And watch it spray far and near
In these times of foreboding and gloom
I'm simply not leaving my room
So if you want to cheer me
Without standing near me
Facetime me so I can zoom
I've just heard that Boris is sick
I hope his recovery's quick
To founder and fail
But keep out of jail
Is a very Pfeffelian trick
Once was, that all roads led to Rome
But now, we must all stay at home
And not wipe our arses
Through government farces
So please don't be tempted to roam
The peak of infection is past
And though working from home is a blast
Does nobody know
Just where I might go
Sorry, those days are past.
It's got to be time for a brew
But please don't let it stew
When infusing the leaves
I'll tell you what peeves
Not knowing where each of them grew
Hidden textSocial Distancing provides opportunity for such ponderings
Home alone. I've searched - there's no other
Those bed socks belong to my mother
And the knocks in the walls
And the plaster that falls
On me is such a bother
Relaxing the rules just a little
A lot wouldn't do, but a bit'll
Think it's all over
And visit their lover Shakespearian Rules declared
What'll then hit the fan? Oh, the shit'll.
Thanks for the excellent development of an admittedly difficult start!
Outside there's a godawful smell
In my own personal circle of Hell
I've searched high and low
I reck'n it's the po
But my nose is so clogged I can't tell
I've gathering the wood and the wool
Sounds like a load of old bull
In fact, a young cow
In the here'n'now
Says I'm too high to be cool.
Do nothing, until there's a Plan
Don't plan, until there's a Man
No Man? Get a monkey
Then all will be hunky-
Dory, like Dominic Cummings's scam
I'm really fed right up to here
I'll do something reckless, I fear
I'll put on my socks! [Daring enough for ya, ya pussies? I'm so hardcore I may even put them on the wrong feet.]
Cue-up "Cleveland Rocks!"     The Ian Hunter original
Fu*k it, I'll just have a beer
My socks are marked left and right
This is so I can find them at night
The marks are in Braille
They pong, so exhale
But this cannot be mine - far too tight
I'm back from a very long trip
To Woking's municipal tip
Where I hunted in vain
For Boris's brain
In the vain hope he might get a grip
I feel like an animal theme for a bit. Can we have some animals?

There is much to be said of the Moth

But I'd much rather speak of the Sloth     
Hidden textHi, Jack!
Or a simple wombat
Or a Sumatran Rat
Or the Wampa ice creature from Hoth
I can't see the point of a bunny
They're 'hoppy' and I prefer 'runny'
But hoppy beer's great
So here's Bunny's fate
Stewed in Guinness, with onions, and honey.
The purpose of hedgehogs is clear [Simons] We can have a catalogue of limericks justifying British fauna if you want
They have excellent taste in good beer
They just lap it up
From a saucer or cup
Curl up and just disappear
The haggis, a curious beast
Turns dinner into a feast
with offal and bran
Yourrr auld Scottish gran
Will make it all rise with some yeast
You can see by the cut of his jib
That he clearly will not ad lib
Those "Fnarrs"! and those "Errrs"
"In the script!" he avers
"To say otherwise is a fib"
You can tell by the look in her eye
That the lady is ever so shy
She's sweet and demure
But her mind is manure the light linen duster coat, ta
You would think she was born in a sty.
You could say she was destined to fly
(Even though, manifestly, you lie)
She seems to have wings
And other nice things
But too great a liking for pie (Sigh) It's like the sad tale of Mavis the Fairy all over again.
(Only with pie rather than cake.)
If cake is your bag, just look here
It is gluten-free, have no fear
And there's zero lactose
Sugar free, I 'spose Tricky rhyme, there
And a glass of no-alcohol beer.
My hair grows ever longer
Surely a glow worm?
My hair grows ever longer
But falls out just as fast
I'll beat upon the conga
Until I breathe my last.
(Superman) 'Kinell. It is, isn't it.
My hair seems to grow ever longer
But my body just doesn't get stronger
So, Sampson I'm not
And Delilah is rot
Can it get any wronger?
I like to eat spinach with jam  
Hidden textNot really
Far better than Marmite with spam
Hidden textUrk!
But jellied eel mousse
Hidden textGetting grosser here . . . )
Just makes the bowel loose
Hidden textSo they say
I'm a slave to my guts, that I am.
But I love strawberry jam with my cheese
'Tis a consumation sure to please
But not ev'rybody
is Passamaquoddy
Who eat it while shooting the breeze.
I shot at the breeze and I missed
And the breeze is now royally pissed
"I'll blow your house down"
It said, with a frown
Til I asked it to kindly desist
My arrow is caught in a tree
And my grapeshot has not made it free
My petard is hoist
My powder is moist
And my peashooter - it lacks a pea.
*applause*
That should be exhibited immediately in the showcase game.
The thunder is getting quite near
I'd better finish off my beer
For this heat and this weather
Ruffle many a feather
With a large bolt of lightning, I fear
Hat off. Another winner
Ye Gods! What a bang! That was close!
It made me yell, "Great Caesar's Ghost!"
But try not to fret
It's not over yet
You've still got to butter the toast
The smell of hot crumpet with butter
Will cause a curmudgeon to mutter
"How gruntled I feel!" Resisting the temptation to put "gruntled" at the end of the line.
"This is not quite a meal"
But the prospect still makes my heart flutter
Cream cheese on a bagel is better
Though I much prefer to use feta
While some like ricotta
I think that you oughta
Feed that lot to the nearest red setter (The weirdest dog breed I've ever come across.)
A strange dog, you see, is the Puli
Think Dougal (though not so unruly)
And the magical thing
Is one gets them to sing
By kicking them in the left goolie.
Demonstration event at Crufts
A sudden change in the weather
Can motivate me to wear leather True
Then, astride my Hog
I ride into the fog
Adorned with a large ostrich feather
When it rains down bricks and mortar
There's one thing that you oughta
Never ever do (KagShu) Earthquake, tornado?
Lock yourself in the loo Let's get this moving.
And pointlessly call for a porter
Immunity, so I have heard,
Is a highly politicised word
Especially for Trump
An idiot chump (Rosie) Probably tornadoes in Hurricane Laura
Whose IQ was somehow deferred
If your trombone is blocked up with crud (KagShu) Mmm, nasty. Hope the bits missed you.
The best thing is to fill it with mud
Apply moderate heat
Till the tone becomes sweet
Then clear it all out with a thud
If you like reading adventure novels
Or Dickensian books set in hovels
Then I've got just the thing:
(It's written by Sting)
As for his fans he grovels
Hey! Here's some terrific advice
If your clock is infested with mice
Wait until it strikes one
They'll have no more fun
The tone, their brains will splice
Hidden textH/T Pinky and the Brain
Rosie - was already evacuated for Laura and saw my city basically damaged by it when I first wrote that and n ow Delta has hit my city, too. I was still evacuated, so I'm safe
I've heard there's a brand new vaccine
To protect us from Covid-19 I wish
But there is a small catch
You'll lose all your thatch
And your privates will glow lurid green. oblig.
Eating chicken soup as a cure
Is common in Jewish culture
But the Catholics swear
By the head of a bear
And its testicles just to be sure
I'm determined to start a fresh rhyme
Though a challenging task for a mime
He can't say a thing
Though his limbs he may swing
For to learn ASL takes some time.
As he ran like the wind to the border  
Hidden textNo idea what this is about.
Before Brexit to place his last order
He wished that he had
Stayed in Ahmedabad
With his wife, (where he couldn't afford 'er)
As I sailed in my boat on the briny
My toddlers got seasick and whiny
So I sent them aloft
To work on a croft
They didn't do much; they're too tiny
Do you really think it is OK  
Hidden textAs for the penultimate one, I _still_ don't know what it was about.
To start a new lim'rick this way?
Choose one: YES or NO
And don't vacillate so
For this, dear friends, is the way.
On this day, of all days, it is clear
That your vest is still showing, my dear
I did say “Don’t inflate it!”
But anticipated
Obedience - now should I try fear?
In a dinghy I rowed out one day
To the mouth of the silvery Tay
Then I fell overboard
And cried: "Save me, Lord"
Though he never responds when I pray
YMMV
I'm offering up this kind thought-
If you do what you know that you ought
Then if someone sees
You stuffing golf tees Unfinished thought alert
Surely, you will be caught.
I'd like to say 'well done' to Pfizer Nothing if not topical
If it's true let's all have a spritzer
At -80 degrees Cee      
Hidden texter ... the name is pronounced Pf-EYE-zer, innit?
It's obvious to me
It will be applied by Thagomizer
Mercy killing
A vaccine? Oh my! Is it true?
Should we cheer? Shout Hurrah and Woohoo?
But suppose it's a dud?
And does us no gud invoking poetic licence
There'll be quite a hullabaloo.
Keep that needle away from my arm!
In my bum, though, it works like a charm
I've been waiting for weeks
To whip off me breeks
Though it causes the wife some alarm
Beware - do not try this at home
Especially not on your own
Suppose it explodes
And fuses your nodes Shades of Rambling Syd Rumpo there.
You'll be blown from here half way to Nome.
Nome, and its green green green grass
Is built on cooled volcanic glass
They say that at night
Its emerald light
Looks like oxidized brass
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