mc5 - The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated

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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated

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And so it begins....

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The New Year has brought gloom and dismay

For Charlie Hebdo, so they say

Life goes on - nice and swift

Though for most somewhat miffed

Live on, but die another day. Mercy killing, if you'll excuse the phrase. The stalling of this limerick for a week possibly supports my hypothesis that there are better channels for serious commentary on terrorist atrocities. (I come here to be entertained and show off.)

The chief mistress of Louis XV (Fifteen, n'est-ce pas?)

Had much better legs than his Queen

And as for her bust Well done, pen; it was becoming a right clunker.

If it hadn't been trussed

T'would have sagged somewhere south of her spleen

Finance, it's all Greek to me

And it's mostly a Greek trag ed ee

But the show must go on

'Tho the coffers are gone

Next up: The Great Greek de fault ee.

I once scaled the Rock of Gibraltar

To meet with my bride at the altar

My ardour then wilted

I said somewhat stilted

When I found that her real name was Walter

I once strolled the beaches of Wales

Consid'ring successes and fails

With the thought in my head

"Am I better off dead?"

So I jumped off the cliff - left no trails...

My dear mortal coil is unwound

By a process of reason unsound

With a match, a gas leak Not until it's over

Hidden text

should be simple to seek but alas twas not so as I found

We'll fly high, with a shriek

And five miles away, hit the ground.

In my an-nu-al HR appraisal Careful now...

I was told that my tone is too nasal

So I blocked up by doze

With some sweat from by toez

Ad disguised duh sbell wid widge hazal

In order to play the bassoon

You must warm up from April to June

But when playing the flute

You just give a quick toot

and blow (but you'll be out of tune)

My tax return's well overdue

But HMRC, they can stew

The money I owe

For my 'petite Chateau'

Has been spent on a cruise. Toodle-oo!

Last night as I went to 'de loo

An owl in the dark said "too-woo"

If you're hoping to pee

Please don't wee over me

Or I'll spray you with my number two. ( thanks, Mother)

Last night, as I dreamt of my beau

My face was suffused with a glow

'Twas not mere desire

Hidden text

'Twas the ceiling afire, World war two era wiring, you know

Not til it's done.

That kindled my fire

'Twas the treasure concealed down below.

Last night as I grouted some tiles

I tested my masculine wiles

Hidden text

So this is unlikely to end well.

I said to my wife

Please pass me that knife

She stabbed me, but I was all smiles. Muahahahahaha!

Last night I was out of my wits

As I searched the bird-table for tits

All I found was some seed

And something to read It's a bit nippy out, I will take a coat if you don't mind...

-in the chaos of life, it all fits.

This bright Monday morning I'm on

Benzedrine. I'd take more, but they're gone.

Still, life is just dandy

Cos I took them with brandy or shandy

For synergistifica-shon.And rather poor rhythm.

I can think - I can read - I can write

My classification is "bright"

But I just can't do sums

So I'm put with the dumbs

Which I think of as rather a slight.

Top marks for the last one!
But you're boring, you're boring as hell

You're up there with Wisty, E. L.

You drone on and on

'Til all sentience is gone

What is left is just unpleasant smell...

What a pain to have bagged the first line again

For some that's a terrible strain

It challenges the wits

And is very annoying following Software's lead

But turns out alright in the end

There was a young man of Dundee
Who was stung on the neck by a wasp
When asked if it hurt
He replied "Not a bit,
It can do it again if it likes"

One of my favourites. And now, back to our usual program...

How much do you want for that horse?

(I can see you have "Foxhunt Remorse")

Shall we say thirty quid?

That's my last final bid

(three dots and sev'n dashes in Morse).

Huzzah! Pop'n'crisps all round!

"Excuse me", I said to this bloke

"Can you lend me a bob for a coke?"

He looked in my eyes

(That's a trick I despise)

Said "No, here's some pot you can smoke."

I say! What a hideous hat!

What on earth possessed you to wear that?

'Snot a hat, it's a mitre

And it feels so much lighter

Pope Marc the second

Than the halo i wear in the Vat'...

It is Friday and life is so good

Can't be bothered to work, though I should

I'll sneak out to the pub

For a pint and some grub

And drink more than I normally would

An evening in front of the telly

A South Bank Show rerun (George Melly)

A pizza, some beers

Then a rerun of Cheers

And a great rumbling sound in my belly

A protesting voice I must raise

Against your lascivious gaze

My face is up here

So please transfer that leer

To a smile that confirms my boobs you praise

[Marc] I think you were too keen to get your boobs into that last line. I can imagine you're proud of them, but I think you could have tried harder to make them fit. Shocking scansion there, miss.

There was a young fellow from Hull pronounciation ad lib

Who thought that the place was too dull

So he signed on a ship [pen] Yes, I think you are right, there’s much too few lines about boobs nowadays

Donned a pink, silken slip

That would show off his boobs to the full

While donning my pads, gloves and box

Hidden text

Cricket, if you're confused.

I was shocked when I found my boll-ocks If you can't beat 'em, join em, eh Marc, you mysoginistic arse?

Though my jockstrap is big[pen] I know you are rude and now you have proven to be ignorant and stupid as well, what a pity

It's stuffed with my wig

A banana and two pairs of socks

[Marc] If you must post smut (which, it seems, is all that you have to offer) at least be decent enough to make it rhyme and scan. It's probably too much to ask for it to be interesting, clever or funny as well.

A true sanctimonious mind,

Isn't needed - you'd have to be blind u.s.a.

Or denying the truth

To not know what is couth

So let's all be nice and refined

Refinement, I have it in spades

Hidden text

I fucking do.

Well, at least if I look through my shades

I'll see Rosie's demure

And raise it to 'pure'

As she wafts through the sun-dappled glades.

Again, poor Rosie's changed sex

Was it drugs and the knife, or a hex?

No, it's all in the mind

Though it's still undefined

But not if I lower my kecks.

Hidden text

Look away NOW.

I'm thrilled with the latest advance

In captivity, they've bred a Wild Pants

It is white with red spots

You can play 'join the dots'

Though its parents may well look askance.

In Midsomer a man has been shot

There it happens more often than not

It's a great place to die

'neath a clear English sky

Do I really think so? Not a lot.

Thank god! Morse and Lewis are here! Netflix Binge declared.

So tremble, ye villains, with fear!

For Oxford is filled

With forensically skilled

And detectives that drink lots of beer

Oh well played everyone! Crisps all round!

And as for Inspector Jack Frost

I fear that his marbles are lost

Though when bending the rules

And suffering fools

That old bridge too far he had crossed.

When you sit on the rail breaking wind (A nice sailing trip anyone?)

Having drunk too much beer that is tinned

Spare a thought for the mate

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 text

Raak: 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.....?

Lineman for the County

Allow me

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 text

Sorry, 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

Marc (Sorry but rhyming safe seem to be tricky)

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? :)

silver linings in the sky

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 text

Hey, 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

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