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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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While tuning the new Cern collider
I got shitfaced on Diamond White cider
It had a strange charm
So I chanced my arm
Last night I had a 'big bang'
When I threw my brand new boomerang
As it hurtled back
Through the starry ink-black
It hit my head with a clang Fed up with this one sitting here, now quickly moving on ...
The things that one keeps in the loft
Are oft fluffy and cuddly and soft
So set a mouse trap
Among all that house crap
Then bin what the rodent half-scoffed.
An aardvark who imbibed ant-acid
Soon found his proboscis all flaccid
His face, it went red
Like litmus, it's said
Leaving him feeling quite placid
"Oh sir!" cried the maid in distress
"My pic's in the tabloidy press"
"I was at a party"
"Dressed up really tarty"
"In my scanty new 'see-through it' dress"
Tonight is the V.P. Debate
So will it seal Ms. Palin's fate?
Can a hockey mom whatever the hell that is
exhibit aplomb
When her kid's up the duff and out late.
The world of finance - it is tottering
We'll all be reducèd to squattering
While those "in the know"
Just rake in the dough
In a way that's very unflattering
My pockets are now filled with dough
I can feel the yeast making it grow
I'll have plenty of bread
Or else, in its stead
The bulge will make her eyes glow
The camera, it's said, never lies
Even if one dons disguise
Dolly Parton with beard
Or your face with clay smeared
Won't hide that you've ate all the pies
"Shall we move a bit nearer the fire?"
"The heat will inflame our desire"
"But what if the glow.. unfin
Starts to melt my big toe?"
Wouldn't that just be too dire?"
All Hallow's Eve was a treat
Except for my melted feet
i walked through the flames
'Cos it's one of my aims
My footprints to set on Fleet Street
A new president has been elected
His cabinet will soon be selected
And Hil'ry, no doubt It has been established in another place that non-smutty limerics rarely rhyme or scan properly
Will not be left out -
Thank goodness that Palin's rejected
A wind of change blows from the East [i,R,K,J,S] Bravo! Most salient
As bakers bake breads without yeast
Mamas noodles we cook
Into sticky gook
That's the supper that we like the least
A shortage of eager lim'rickers
A surfeit of scansion nitpickers
Some grammar pedants
Repeating their chants:
"Indefensible mouse-clickers."
So what makes a humorous rhyme?
And are limericks on the decline?
Then again, clerihews
Have been making the news
For their value is rarely, if ever, revealed in the length of the ultimate line.
While scoffing a large box of chocs
I decided to take off my socks
They smelled like old cheese
Which caused me to wheeze
And cough up a collection of rocks.
Last night while I lay in my bed
I pondered the book I'd just read
The hero, I'm sure,
Was no epicure
Subsisting on baked beans and bread.
My first is in bed and asleep Limeriddles, or something. Or not.
My second is still counting sheep
My third's a surprise
And my fourth does arise
And of the fifth, you won't hear a peep I think we were all stumped on that one. Moving along now...
While I was putting the lights on my tree Xmas theme.
I felt a sharp pain in my knee
Oh, my patella
Get me codeine, young fella
And watch my low limb swinging free (below the knee that is...)
The fluff of my navel is gone
Thanks to this invent-ion
It sucks up the lint
Leaves the fragrance of mint
A cosmetic sine qua non.
When you've got to the top of your game
You should quit well before you're thought lame
For an ageing has-been
Should never be seen
As a resplendent pantomine dame
At Christmas we eat and we drink
But sometimes I have a deep think
My kids then say "Dad,
How much gin have you had?"
Was it Gordon's? Or p'raps was it pink?"
It's almost two-thousand-and-nine
The year of both roses and wine (hopefully)
And juxtaposition
Though price of admission,
Is more than its worth every time
There was a young lad from Bordeaux
Who crossed a Cabernet grape with a Gordo
The juice, when fermented, [irach] I'm reporting you to the Scansion Commission
Made drinkers demented
And girls, though quite chaste, set aglow
A scansion policeman named Bob
Was really quite keen on his job
To such an extent
('bout 200 percent)
That a few syllables he would rob
Please don't put your trash in the bin
To throw anything out is a sin
So recycle all waste
All in good taste
And swallow this Scotch mixed with Gin
The problem with being middle-class
Is that it can be a pain in the arse
The upper crust, though
Are smug 'cause they know
That where there is muck, there is brass
But if you're as common as muck
No silver spoon - no such luck
Get your ar*e on TV
As a Cel-e-brit-ee
And try not to use the word that is now in widespread use in the media, something I thoroughly disapprove of despite my frequent use of it in private conversation.
Big Brother's a load of cheap tat Is this what you mean, Rosie?
The F-Word's no better than that Is Gordon Ramsay the chief culprit, Rosie?
But fortunate-lee (Softers, Kim) Yeah, that sort of thing.
I don't watch TV
And that's why I am such a brat ...
When lines do not follow the rule
Some bullys cry out "What a fool!"
"And as for your plurals" ....next line difficult....
"Worse than epidurals"
But being a rebel is cool
If you chant 'Rule Britannia' out loud
Stiff upper lips will stand proud
But! Say 'God Save the Queen',
And you'll cause a scene
– You'll have to leave under a cloud
There's no roy-al-tee for us Yanks
We make do with missiles and tanks
We drive pickup trucks
That we buy using bucks
And we spend all your oil saying: Thanks !
In Texas they say "Howdee y'all"
In Yorkshire "Ay-up"'s what they call
But in SW3
They say naught - you trust me
They write Limerick lines - what a ball!
There was a young fellow from Penge
Who decided to take his revenge
On his great-aunt from Poole
With a long-handled tool
he twisted her nose with a wrench
The bishops of Penge and of Poole
Were fond of the odd game of boules
But their cup ranneth over
When a straw-chewing drover
Showed them his family jewel ...hat and coat, please...
Dear Fraulein my Glüwein is cold
Bitte, will you mein Glüwein please hold
While I trinketh my beer
Please nibble my ear
And do anything else that is bold
As I stood on the top of K2
I thought "I did all this for you!"
"I brave the fierce wind"
"My career I've binned"
"But it's worth it, just look at the view!"
As I squelched through the mudflats of Kent
I pondered the reason for Lent
'Tis to boost sales of fish
I mused, with a wish
From the Humber, the Thames and Solent mercy!
The hardest of crimes to detect [pen] What about the Trent?
[Darren] I'm foreign now, and don't know those things. Axshully, I forgot it.
Are those that’s performed so perfect
But with Marple and Co
And with Poirot in tow
It'd be im-poss-i-bull to confect
The Severn, the Trent and the Dove
Flow with the rains from above
But in times of drought
They must do without
And rowers must get out and shove
When an Aberdeen lad went to Perth
He found out just what he was worth
When he looked at the cheque
He thought: "What the heck,"
"Give me haggis. To hell with my girth".
When travelling to Aberdeen
I turned to look back where I'd been
And ran off the road
Upset my load
Of hand-woven pink gabardine
The Clan of MacLean-Cameron
Was once a great power that's now gone
All the blood that was spilt
Down the front of my kilt
Leaves my dry-cleaner feeling forlorn
I stood on the platform at Crewe
As I wondered just what I would do
If my train was delayed
Would that fact be displayed?
And would there be time for the loo?
When you surf on the roof of a train
You need the bumps fell in your brain
Don't touch the live wire (Softers) Wossat mean, den?
Or you might catch on fire I think he meant "felt on"
And with angels you'll sing the refrain
If you surf on the roof of the tube
You should rub yourself over with lube
Keep a profile that’s low
Pray you don't need the po
Or you might be seen as a n00b
If you surf on the mighty ocean
Dab on lots of sun-tanning lotion
Keep a profile that's high
– Imitate Captain Bligh!
Completely devoid of emotion
The chocolate chicken is here!
Because it's that time of the year
So I'll be a feaster
A cioccolatista,
So I'll crush it to bits, never fear!
The problem with watching ballet Limerick challenge: no "gay".
As I once heard Nureyev say Easy, so far
"Those padded dance belts
Do leave me with welts
In places I really can't say."
I've chosen to learn how to box
Replacing those gloves with two socks
Though the gloves on my feet ...kickboxing...?
Do look very neat
They don't help when throwing out knocks
They're rubbing - my Crocodile shoes,
It's jarring - my singing the blues
My pain's the refrain
These shoes are my bane
Their scales yield mine awful reviews
My big toe is throbbing with gout
But I shan't take the easy way out
Instead I shall hop
To the cutlery shop
Carve my shoe to a nice bulging-out
Poor Darling, I’ll buy you a pint
They're costly - the taxes are gi'ant
I'll make it real ale of course
Cos you're looking so pale
And all on expenses; please sign 't.
"My lines are so close to perfection," Well, not mine - yours!
No-one can raise an objection
The words, they just flow
Like the times when I "go"
My stream never needs a correction apologies all around...
[Juxtapose] Why apologise? It's much cleaner than the line which popped into my head. (Which is why I didn't play it!)
(Darren) Agreed. It's Raak who's the dirty bugger.
There was a young lad from Belgrade trad.
Who wished to get Tinker Bell laid
His fairy-like dream
Made Peter Pan scream
for it wasn't his croc he displayed.
A pudding fell out of the sky
And before I could say, "Goodness! Why--"
This "manna from heaven"
"Is four pounds forty seven!"
That is cheap for an airborne cow pie!
A man from the planet of Mars
Kept carbon dioxide in jars
Its greenhouse effects
Encouraged safe sects
So it's highly endorsed by the stars
An image from telescope Hubble
Depicted a great cosmic bubble
At the edge of known space
Which resembles the face
Of old Patrick Moore, but with stubble.
While sunning myself on the beach
I noticed a very fine Peach
I stroked its soft skin
[Raak] Her soft skin, I was hoping.
Surely no sin
Then licked off its sweet juicy leach ...
This beach once was filled with white sand
But things have not gone as we planned
For, as you can see
It's filled with debris
Teen beach parties should really be banned
It says on the side of this tin
BEWARE: there's traces of nuts within
You could break out in hives
When the doctor arrives,
He'll throw the whole lot in the bin.
I once met a maid from Regina Limerick challenge: clean
Who cherished her old Morris Minor Will that do, Juxt?
She kept it so clean
It dazzled the Queen
Whose Bentleys are not any finer ... [Juxtapose] There...clean as a whistle...
True Lim'ricks are not to be clean,
It's tempting to show the obscene
They must also be witty     BTW, Radio 3 is currently having a competition to compose serious limericks. Maybe we could try one here?
Coherent, not bitty
And polished right up to a sheen
Not only by bread doth man live   Going for a serious limerick. Titter ye not!
Not so much to receive as to give
Which lifteth the soul
For those on the dole
Or those with pockets like a sieve.Maybe I should apologise...
There was a young man from Peru (pen) No, no, not at all. Pretty good for a Dutch speaker.
Who bought a bright pink cockatoo
With very long legs
That laid polka dot eggs
While waving the tail - oh so blue The parrots of course!
There's thunder and lightning about
Don't panic. There's no need to shout.
I heard you first time
There's no reason or rhyme
It’s Thor who have just found his stout
My uncle, who lives in Cleckheaton
At snooker, has never been beaten
His all-out attack
By using the black
And pot it with super cue treatin’
The balls that were hit with his cue
Followed a path that was true All right, doesn't quite rhyme.
His peerless precision it does in America, Rosie
Was met with derision
But from the crowd there came a very loud "BOO"!
*Ahem*, I think, Mr Mac, we'll just draw a line under this one and call it a warning....
My auntie, who lives in Llangollen
Complained over legs that were swollen
Her acute phlebitis
Makes her dance like St. Vitus
O! How the mighty are follen No rhymes at all in that one :-)
In a nice little village in Kent
The priest found his coffers were spent
So he held a church fête
Where his needs were all met
By a choirboy behind the beer tent
Hidden textNot my greatest scansion, but if French pronunciation is fine, then so is American stress.
The good folk of Dwygyfylchi
While pond'ring the nature of time
I found myself covered in slime
This temporal gunk
Was spread out but shrunk
So I choked but performed a great mime
Two words; the first rhymes with 'bee'
Said the flea with a brie on his knee
The debris on the brie
Would be tea for the flea
But gives heebee-jeebies to me
"But what is the word?", asked the flea
To a bee that just wanted to be
Just known for spelling
So he wasn't telling
The number of words, was it three?
"The first word", the flea announced brightly
"Is one that is used almost nightly."
Like 'barhop' or 'beer'
And 'gay' but not 'queer'
Then the flea hopped away quite politely
When swimming, remember this tip
First give your big toe a quick dip
And if the water is wet
And that it will be I bet
Down to your trunks you can strip
Good morning, we sail with the tide
As Captain, I can make you a bride
So make one for me
Or perhaps two or three
And a groom, but please keep him aside
Beware the man in the moon
He will gouge out your eyes with a spoon
He'll feed you green cheese
Swap over your knees,
Then he'll seal you in a cocoon
It is much like a cloud that I wander
My time and my effort I squander
But I do have one goal
To bring joy to my soul
By watching the free wild blue yonder
Those magnificent men who all fly
Weird flying machines in the sky
Sometimes they go up
With a huge champagne cup
"Bollocks to RyanAir", they cry.
I've invented a falling machine!
It's gravity driven and green
You just start it like this
If you blink you will miss N.B. unfinished sentence
It's operation so swift and serene
I'll admit that the landing is rough
More so if you're landing on tuff
Then you'll bounce up again
In consid'rable pain
And out you will go with a snuff
One day on the M25
I was glad to have emerged alive
Though I killed 23
The parking was free
I really must learn how to drive.
A tool every gardener needs
Is one to eliminate weeds
This novel invention
will garner attention
From Sturminster Newton to Leeds
I once knew a young chiropractor
Who worked patients back with his tractor
Although efficacious
His bills were mendacious
With most patients sustaining a fracture
If you're set on becoming a quack
It helps to acquire the knack
Of dispensing green pills
And then issue great bills
Then slip out the door at the back
The things that I keep in my shed
Are not what I'd want in my bed
The difference, you see,
Is the rake next to me
That I swapped for the bitch that I wed
The reasons for not being here
Is so abundantly clear
My hard disc has crashed (Softers) Is = Are?
My graphics card's trashed
And my keyboard is covered in beer
The reasons for being here are many (pen) Pimm's I would have believed.
To critizize speling and meter, any?
But our true raison d'être
Of which we are les maîtres
Is that we are all rather zany
Let's drink to the flamboyant Floyd
Who'll now fill the bow-tied chef void?
With a glass of champagne,
You'll remove any pain,
And remember a man we enjoyed
One night at a bar in Bordeaux
Through a rosy wine-induced glow
i got very cozy
With M. Sarkozy
And woke up in charge of Renault
One day on the wharf in Mumbai
I encountered a Latvian spy
He was armed with a gun the last one was excellent, BTW
So I started to run
And got decked at the docks, then good-bye!
The Irish have voted with "yes"
To convert all their taps to Guinness
So, taking a bath
Will be more of a laugh
Than a matter of hygiene and finesse
The things that she did with her tongue
To the snippet of Schubert she sung
Involved much saliva
This pretty muff diver
Until the last note, which still stung [Rosie] I think you'll find it's spelled 'diva' ;o)
The things that he does with his pole
Would even surprise Old King Cole
'Cos with it he'd fiddle
And play paradiddle
On anything sporting a hole
The things he can do with his mind
If acted would make him go blind
And he thinks he's a hero
Acts like Emperor Nero
Who was not always very refined.
A toothless old hag from Tbilisi
Ran a chip shop whose products were greasy
Her beetroot (deep-fried)
With borscht on the side
Was used as hair oil in Assisi
My brother, who loves in Beirut,
Encountered a typo (minute)
He actually "lives",
Buy - hey now - what gives?
The "Whoops" button didn't reboot. with some chagrin, -Jux
My auntie, who lives in Tashkent
Has one curly leg slightly bent
While my uncle in Venice
Is nowt but a menace
Who once was arrested in Ghent
"Dear Sir, don't believe all you hear,"
The British do not love warm beer
Nor do they all dress
In the dark, nonetheless
It's well known that the men are all queer.
My sister, who works in Beijing,
Is confused 'cos it once was Peking
And my aunt in Firenze
Is all in a frenzy
'cause my uncle just left for Xiaoping
[Raak] Re: penultimate limerick. That was exactly the last line I had in mind, word for word.
A pleasant young chap from Osaka
Once sailed over Lake Titicaca
In the midst of this trip
Dislocated his hip
And loudly exclaimed, "Anta baka?"
On a raft in the midst of the ocean [Phil] Great minds etc.
Having run out of chamomile lotion
I tried using rum
And some barnacle gum
Applied with a rotary motion
A fearsome great beast, the gorilla
Attacking with sticks, like Attila
But with its own kin
It serves tonic , with gin
Imported each day from Manila
I stood all alone in the bunker
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