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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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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
Ring the bells! Sound a gong! Hoist the flag!
Says the front page of my Sunday rag
Well, get The Observer
Which proclaims with great fervor
"How to split up from your lifetime bag."
While shepherds were watching their flocks
Of chickens and geese and some cocks
They whiled away the time
By eating a lime
And chasing off all chicken hawks.
Me ‘n my mates, we’re all kings from back east
We're the Basildon Bad Boys, now mainly deceased
From beyond the grave
We'll still have a rave
with 'Unleashed From The East' - Judas Priest
(real album - honest guv')
While slamming tequila on ice
I blacked out at least once or twice
Hit me 'ead on the floor
Lost a fight with a door
And got dragged off to jail by the Vice.
In praise of the old Pearly Queen
I painted my private parts green
The public bits red
Then I shaved my head
And stripped off so to be seen
I went out with a real little raver
Who moonlighted, days, as a paver
His favourite dance
Had a one in four chance
Of not making him one to savour
The chord that was lost has been found
And has a most beautiful sound
It's a mixture of twang,
And blip-bloop and ktang
Like George Formby falling t'' ground. 'Owja do glo''al stops?
While cleaning windows what did I see?
A gentleman who looked like George Formby!
He was missing his uke,
And he gave me a look That's considerably less revolting than my first idea for the line
And a rather refined cup of tea
Whenever I hear Van the Man
Or I see the Pres with the "tan"
My hackles are raised
And I go off half-crazed
When Her Majesty does the can-can
You know, I miss Morecambe and Wise
As I guzzle a dozen mince pies
Abbott and Costello
And some other fellow
All gone to that Club in the skies
Pine needles all over the floor
A dried-up, dead wreath on the door
The cold light of day dawns
Christmas over, so yawns
Next year we'll be back for some more
Zut alors, wat is 'appening 'ere?
Someone 'as put cheese in my beer
And made it go flat
I shall keel 'eem, zis rat
With my pistole-couteau I 'ave 'ere.
Mein Herr - du hast eaten my pie!
Undt now, English pigdog, you die!
Mein Eisbein ist heilig!
Tough luck - time ist veilig
Even executions go awry
Ahoy! Me hearties! Avast!
Virus protection at last!
Just roll up your sleeve
One jab, and then we've
Hidden textSoftware - nice
Begun sending this plague to the past.
When counting in French, one can say
Un, deux, trois - m'ouveré
Alternatively
Count in Swahili
Hidden textSomeone has to give this a go
Or simply use English/anglais
One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight - splendid idea Dujon!
I count t'let my anger abate
While I'll count in German
Which won't be a sermon
And Europeans I'll try to placate Another Brexshit bonus
So now it's the War of Vaccine
With skirmishes covert and mean
But wait! Who is wrong?
The few or the throng?
The death toll remains to be seen. mercy killing - see what I did there?
Well, I'm free of the COVID is seems
When I finish applying these creams
In covert ceremonies
I'll plaster my knees
In ointment, to cover my screams
In order to seem more appealing
I serve only the finest Darjeeling
In the very best bone china
Made by someone named Dinah
It gives everyone such a nice feeling
[C,R,R,KS,S] Couldn't be more English

In lockdown, I've done some repairs
But it's still rather dodgy upstairs
For instance, the ceiling
Is still only a feeling
And the walls and the floor are "not theres".
While strolling through Lincoln's Inn Fields
I spotted a skip full of shields
That the barristers dump
At the acquittal of Trump oblig.
It's a sign of the power that he wields Moving swiftly on...
We don't have to fear Joseph Biden
Any more than Franz Joseph Haydn
He's as good as his word
When he gives Trump the bird
As into the sunset he's ridin'.
Seems Richard did not have a hump
Nor Jasmine an extra chest bump
You just can’t believe
Each bodily heave
And each clown is in private a glump.
Hidden textWho is this Jasmine the formerly triple-breasted?
While waiting for my second jab
I chanced upon Dominic Raab
I said, "What ho, Dom!"
with my usual aplomb
And asked him to hail me a cab.
Hidden text[Raak], If I RECALL correctly, the name is actually Mary. Seriously, does she have three boobs? (Extra credit if you can tell me the source of my caption) Did my link not work? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EiylTqSAiaM
(KagShu) A 50% excess is unusual but not unique. Here's Monty Python from about 1969.
The chances of being immune
Are as slim as a snowflake in June
So before you get tested
Don't get arrested
Hidden text[Rosie: fun, but "Seriously, doe sshe have three boobs?" is from Legally Blo>nde: The Musical
That could ruin your whole afternoon
There's no sense in holding it back
Even though you may get the sack
Let them know what you think
That their policies stink Almost oblig.
And they should all be put on the rack. at a stretch
When working a day of CS
Hidden textThat's cee ess, or customer service.
Be sure to use words that impress
Don't snarl "Oh get stuffed!"
When your help is rebuffed
Your frustration you must suppress
The first of the Quarantine Years
Has brought many strong men to tears
They whimper and whine
When they misplace their spine
And mentally strip all their gears
This unmanly blub'rin' must cease!
Or else I shall call the police
Who should have a hanky
Wrapped up in a blankie
And syringes dispensing some peace
If it's boating that you want to do
Then the Suez Canal is for you!
It's level throughout
If you get stuck, just shout
There'll be a delay for a minute or two (or longer, perhaps)
While going through Teddington lock
I received a most terrible shock
I saw Hughie Green's ghost
- He was moored to a post!
Awaiting opportunity's knock.
Crisps all round!
Opportunity knocks but once, so
When it does you must get up and go
And lock that darn door
Behind you, before
You go joining the business of show.
Stop all the clocks for eight days
Stay in bed and just laze
Let oppo's go by
Dynamic? Not I
I'm not one for frenetic displays
Do you think that the time is yet ripe?
For a dog at your feet and a pipe
And a scarf round your neck
And slippers, by heck
I'd say no. It's just ageist tripe.
It seems that this shirt doesn't fit
'Cos I have expanded a bit
Chip butties for tea
Scoffed REG-u-lar-LY
Also mean that my trousers have split
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