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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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Is where the priest rests his head.
A young lady from Kingston-on-Hull trad
Dressed up as a boatman from Mull
Gave lifts 'cross the river
For which men would give 'er
The fare. (This limerick’s dull.)
The rain it falleth in torrents
It's even raining in Florence
Away with these clouds!
And off with these shrouds!
Let's put on a ball — who's for correntes?
While waiting my turn at the bar
In the back of my gas-guzzling car
I came up with a plan
for attracting a man
Although really, it did go too far
In the forests of far Khalahand
I tuned up my old baby grand
And gave them some Liszt
As the bushmasters hissed
We're thinking of forming a band
So we'll go no more roving, it seems      Thanks, Rab
Brexit has clipp-ed our wings
My passport's expired
And I'm ever so tired
But at least we can still feel like kings
It took me aback and away
When a bright, happy sun rose today
Will things improve
Or will nature remove
What it's given, as is nature's way?
There was an old man from West Ealing trad
Whose todger got stuck to the ceiling trad
He reached for his chisel mad
which loosened the pizzle
And now it's replastered, it's healing
(apologies but the lines appeared fully-formed to me in blazing letters on my trousers)
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