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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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'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
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