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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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 text

Ooh, 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.

The Man In Black

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

And bleach and brake fluid for power.

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 text

I 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

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