arrow_circle_left arrow_circle_up arrow_circle_right
The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
help
And so it begins....
arrow_circle_up
To shift from in front of the telly
My brain, too, is f****d rhyme it as you wish
But there's two Roses left!
Shall I have 'em? Why, yes! On your nelly!
It is grim and I want for some sun
But the rain and the fog aren't quite done
And tonight, snow and ice
Will be playing at dice
With hailstones (for even more fun!)
This was fun, but I have to be going
Next morning for Cambridge I’m rowing
The cox says my stroke
Needs that much more poke
And I must ditch the hamper I'm towing
The whales off of east New South Wales
Are relaxed about storms, floods and gales
Well, some like it rough
(Orcas surf in the buff)
But enough off-the-cuff whale details.
Have you recently fallen in love?
I wouldn't quite call it that, bruv
Then have you been dating?
I'm equivocating
Such pedestrian stuff, I'm above
As the weather grows colder and colder
The White Walkers roam south ever bolder
No wall is too high
The zombies draw nigh!
Someone stop them! We need a door-holder!
Here's the carrot and there is the stick
So which are you going to pick?
The choice is so hard
Like picking a card
Incentives should best do the trick.
The cave where the blue monkeys dwell
Has a very particular smell
Of typewriter ribbon
And erudite gibbon
So pongy, and funky as well.
O, to follow a winding canal
To somewhere more calm (not banal) Margo Leadbetter vowels invoked
With Prunella Scales
Whom Basil fails
With fawlty unsafe rationale
Sail a boat, bonny girl; be at peace.
You'll find all your problems will cease (Chalky) Classy, that
Your peace is assured (Rosie) too kind, dear chap
For the time you’re unmoored
If you keep all your rollocks well-greased.
When one tunes in to Radio 1
One will wish that one hadn't've done.
For it's radio crap
(moans the grumpy old chap)
It's like tuning in to The Sun Would rather not have used 'tune in' again but couldn't think of anything else that scanned.
While listening to Radio Two
- Which is what one would rather not do -
I was bored out my mind
Then thought "search and you'll find"
'I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue'
Go to bed in a bitter bad mood
And then breakfast on mountains of food
Then maybe you'll find
Your bogrolls unwind
To keep pace with the quantities pooed
The rate of inflation's insane
By the time I wrote this line, the gain
Is forty percent
So I live in a tent
As for cash, I have naught but disdain.
When one listens to Radio Three
(Which is not at all smug or snobby)
One's erudite taste
Does not go to waste
With Darjeeling as one's choice of tea
Now Radio Four's for the few
Such as those who Haven't A Clew
And those who like Ambridge
Or speak the welsh language
Tuned in from Lundy in a canoe.
(Chalky) Ofnadwy! Ti'n medddw neu rhywbeth?
Radio Caroline for me is the best
For those who are pop tune obsessed
But if you like jazz
Scuttle Radio Caz
And give Tony Blackburn a rest.
There's four thousand holes in the hall
Through which the kobolds will crawl
Even Superman quails
His power fails
So holes blocked, therefore, sod all.
There’s nine million bikes in Beijing
Each with a bell that goes ping
They fly through the dawn
And park on the lawn
Against the law of Comrade Xi Jiping
When the clock strikes out four steady chimes
It's the signal to set loose the mimes
Whose blitheness of spirit
Is of great mirit NZ pronunciation invoked
And moves along with the times
There isn't a reason I know
Why the cat should be starting to glow
Perhaps it's on heat
And hoping to meet
A cool cat to lay on a show.
I'm feeling some strange feelings, man
And I’m not sure it’s part of the plan
I seem to be joined
(While my reason’s purloined)
By James Bond in a VW van.
I've just taken leave of my senses
And I've start to relinquish my tenses
My ego is stilled
Libido killed
Ennui's destroyed my mental fences.
A spell at the track, watching dogs
In pursuit of fake hare each dog jogs
But a jog supersonic
(and that's NOT a mneumonic!)
Cannot be achieved wearing clogs.
It grows in each corner, like mould
When the air becomes stale, damp and cold
But if rats intervene
Just apply margarine
A rodenticide, so I am told.
If it's butter you seemingly lack,
Then make use of this genius hack:
Find a dandelion field
And ‘neath your chin wield
A small knob of Danish Lurpak
All the poems that ever were written
Can't compare to the new of a kitten
*mew
arrow_circle_down
Want to play? Online Crescenteering lives on at Discord