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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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But they still burped and crapped - she'd been conned.
If we live ‘til we die we get old
Unless we live backwards, I'm told
The path of time's arrow
Is both straight and narrow
So how long 'til I get paroled?
I've not passed this way for a while
And my path is now blocked by a stile
But my Right Of Way
Will ensure that I may
Walk along any road with a smile
I play a dead parrot in skits
And try imitate how it sits
The nails in my feet
Will help to complete
the impression it's all done by twits
A young lady from Burton-on-Trent
Had a figure that seemed heaven-sent
But closer inspection
Revealed imperfection
By then, though, I'd come and she'd spent.
The dreams that she wove in her loom
Were threads of both despair and gloom
But a streak of pure gold
Her future foretold
Once she'd promised the first from her womb
The tiger had vertical stripes
So he bought some nice baby wipes
After a scrub and a rub
Applied to her cub
The stripes turned to spots of three types
It's never too late to give up
Trying to housebreak your pup
So don't let it sit
and just widdle and spit
But the Brummies would say you were tup
The morning of Mr. Magellan
Was spent with Roddy Llewellyn
And this disparate pair
Hunted Lionel Blair
To what end I am leery of tellin'
Driving in ovals is daring
To go topless on beaches is baring
But diving with sharks
When completely starks
Will wake people up, keep'em staring.
Whatever you like is a sin
From sex to a bottle of gin
But a nice cup of tea
Spiked with pure THC (tetrahydocannabinol, that is...)
Makes Hamish and Dougal just grin.
All's good in true moderation
Excess may cause botheration
But a bit here and there
And a pint everywhere
May help to prevent constipation
There's little that's new anymore
We've seen all this stuff once before
The Cycle of Being
Can have one agreeing
That reincarnation's a bore.
There's a man who lives right on our street Well done on that last one, everyone.
Who is said to possess two left feet
His dual sinisterity
And absent dexterity
is a hoot when his two left knees meet
My efforts to drain the Black Sea
Were quite abysmal, you see.
From Romania's edge
I started to dredge
But global warming now does it for free
Today at a quarter to three
I'll have honey for afternoon tea
And then - should I risk it?
A raw egg; just whisk it Yuk.
Then ask her to lap-dance with me
I stare out the window all day
I just want to go out to play
My red vuvuzela
For Nelson Mandela
'Cos he's no musician, they say.
My cursor has turned big and white
And the rest of the screen's black as night
The CD-ROM's beeping
The CPU's sleeping
Hidden textPhotoshop has crashed again.
Just Windows – no reason for fright.
While watching the Test on the telly
Which Waitrose now have near the deli
I dream of steak tartar
And electric guitar
To hide my big muscular belly.
The prodigal son has returned!
Let the fat calf be spitted and turned!
And when it is done
We'll serve on a bun
That's been toasted 'til brown but not burned
I've no time for chitter chatter
I have some paint balls to splatter
You'd best run and hide
And seek scansion guide
Lest the ref call you off for a natter.
In Moscow the smog is disgusting
And Curtain of Iron is rusting
Acid rain is a problem
So, factories? Just nobble 'em
And give that domed Kremlin a dusting
'Tis said by the ones "in the know"
That in April the rain comes as snow
In May, sleet is hail
In June rain and gale
Which only adds to our woe.
While sunning myself on the beach a change in the weather
Tony Blair began giving a speech
With my head in the sand
(I could not take a stand)
Shut him up, please, I beseech.
On my way to the dentist I saw
Something I'd not seen before
Pus oozed from loose molars
And it ran onto the floor!
oops, got it mixed up!
Onto babies in strollers This is the correct one to use.
And then it ran on to the floor! [Perfectly good last line too, I'd say.]
The talented Dr McCoy
Had a bugle. T'was his pride and joy
He'd play it all day
While he sat in the hay
With Sulu, his winsome toy boy
In winter, the sky seems to snow
The flakes flurry as the wind blows!
The will to live withers
The temptation to post: "BANG!<hr>" is overpowering :o)
The weatherman blithers
And we sip our hot red bordeaux ...
With Dickens, Mulled Ale was the thing or was it Mulled Wine?
He preferred it to champagne or bling
But of course, there's a Twist
And with Oliver pissed oblig.
Gruel was bought with the last farthing.
I heard the characteristic sound of a synchromesh eating itself on that last line. Perhaps it's just me though.
Today I met old Mr. Scrooge
Wearing eyeliner, perfume and rouge
With his arm around Cratchit (Sierra M) It ain't just you unless it's just the pair of us.
Whose own make-up did match it
I felt like I needed refuge!
Oh, let's sing an ode to the tench
Of its wonderful barbels and stench
But this tasty fish
If asked, has one wish:
Would be, "throw me back in the trench!"
Would be: "Oh, throw me back in the trench" seems to fit more snugly to me. Are my ears on the blink?
And now let the Cod stir our muse
With a chorus of Bass singing blues
Add in a cow
A bird on a bough
And a sheep makes it "Tweets, Bleats and Moos". - [Rosie/SM] Nope, it's not just you, unless it's just the three of us
Now let's chant on the worth of an eel Well done everyone on that last one
Just one pound a pound - it's a steal
In a sour jelly sauce
And mash, but of course
We must top with stewed eyeballs of Seal!
As I swallowed an octopus whole
I pondered the state of my soul
As its tentacles gripped
Round my spline it just slipped
T'was a bit of a sushi "own goal"
I talk to the trees - no reply
They say not a word - must be shy
I'll summon Prince Charles
To bring organic farls
And other such green stimuli. [Marc, 2 up] Alarming capitalisation, no?
Deep in the Forest of Dean [Tuj] maybe he meant the singer
There lives a cantank'rous old Queen
He dresses in drag
When he goes for a fag
The Yank kind, if you know what I mean!
How do you get text small? A hard break is needed here.
Up in the clouds, lives a moose
He's mauve, with a trace of chartreuse.
He looks kindly down [Kage] The simplest incantation to make small text is to put <small> and </small> around the text you want to disembiggen. Tuj, Software and I have gone a step or two beyond the basics, however.
With nary a frown
As he sips on jicama juice.
A good limerick follows some rules, My line is not a perfect example though. Good hints may be found here: http://freespace.virgin.net/merrick.sheldon/limerickrules.htm
Oft ignored by colonial fools
In time they may learn
That when it's their 'turn'
The limerick monster then drools
We've had too many big spats
And garishly styleless hats [Softers] My point exactly.
With big plume-like feathers
And bunches of heathers awful scansion
Festooned with twenty live rats
Prime the carb! Good! Now, pull on the string! Lawnmowing. Sigh.
Gosh - it started - I can hear it sing!
Its great throbbing roar
Shakes window and door (Softers) Not all God's children got rhythm, it seems.
And birds take quickly to wing
In a lake where thick mists do abound
The kelpie can often be found
This aquatic equine
So hard to define
Eats children, once they have been drowned
In the vale of the shadow of death OK to continue geographic theme?
Lived a gnome who was strung out on meth
This short-arsed stoned tweaker
Drank grog from a beaker
And could stop a big bus with his breath. (Spangle) Very much so, Gary. We do themes quite often.
A dwarf, in the Forest of Arden Geog. and Mythic themes cont'd
Tends an insectivorous plant garden
Though one day after lunch
He had a hunch
He was gone in one munch Sorry KS, we need more syllables!
In a triffid that grew in his garden.
The Humber, the Ouse and the Trent
Each one gave up flowing in Lent
With riverbeds dry
And craft all awry
Wondrin' where all the water had went
As we stood on our boat, high and dry Continuing this riparian theme
We thought the world's end must be nigh
Then down came the rain
Our ark floats again!
Send the wind - for our boat might just fly!
Marc - There once was a lady named Jude, A classic one for a change?
Whose language was vulgar and rude
This foul-mouthed young hussy Oh dear
Was clearly not fussy
About where she verbally pooed. It's Jannit Stwee' Paw'aah!
While poling one day in a punt
A loud hussy called me a runt
So I shouted right back
"It's class, dear, you lack"
Then I poled her backside with a dunt.
While rowing one day down the Dee
I stopped in Llangollen for tea
And when I was sated
My watch indicated
The time was a quarter to three
This paint has gone hard in the tin!
It now has that rhino-like skin (irach) My Dad went to school in Llangollen, where he learnt English.
Yet its shocking pink hue (Rosie)I had come from the US to work on a biotechnology project in Wrecsam and had visited nearby Llangollen four years ago. Lovely place.
Stops me feeling blue
And makes me break out in a grin.
There never was a marshmallow
Made from taconite, asphalt and tallow
But the latest from Lidl (irach) Yes, nice place. But can you pronounce it? You could be forgiven if you can't. "Wrecsam" is a fairly recent Welshification of the original English name. A bit clumsy, seeing that it doesn't obey the rules of Welsh pronunciation if pronounced as "Wrexham" but a change from the usual traffic in the opposite direction (eg Cardiff, Pembroke, Lampeter, Brecon, Barmouth).
Is quite a riddle
Though the flavor, it is a bit shallow.
Oops, line needed!
My mother thinks I need a shave
Crappy scansion:

KagomeShuko - My mum thinks I need a shave
Software - So I'll just have to be brave

[Softers] Worse. What exactly was wrong with the original? It has the same beat pattern as others on this page.
KagomeShuko - My mother thinks I need a shave
Software - And so I'll just have to be brave
I Say, Porter! - My new cut-throat razor
Propelled by green-laser
Was bought off a cockney called Dave
One day while out drinking Real Ale
I heard a most agonised wail
It went "Ralph!" and then "Huey!"
It looked like chop-suey
It happens each time without fail.
"This paté is off!" I exclaimed
"That darned novice chef must be blamed!"
Is what we contrive
Hidden textI just went back over the various verses herein and I believe that the ones in which line three was used to develop the theme in lines one and two seem to give a sense of unified completion whereas those in which line three veers off into new territory end up conveying an unfinished feel more often than not. It doesn't seem to matter much in this scheme of evaluation whether line two takes a sudden left turn. Of course, now I come to think about it, a line two diversion leaves fifty percent more poem time to work through the new idea than a line three unsignalled turn.
Hidden textIn My Opinion, of course, and I'm not suggesting anything needs fixing.
When PETA's petition's defamed
A beetle, a slug, and a squirrel
Named Bernie, David and Cyril struggling for a rhyme
Left Liverpool's shore
For they'd come to deplore
Their mis'rable lives on the Wirral nice work, Spangle!
American Football's more like "hand-egg"
Thanks Phil. But sorry KagomeS - you are making it very difficult for others to play nicely, as they say.
[Sprangle] In my humble opinion it is not better, nor worse, than the average standard these days...
KagomeShuko - American Football's more like "hand-egg"
Marc - And USA pints are more a beer-keg
This isn't a limerick
So we rhyme with a little dick
And light the fuse to the powder-keg ***BoooooM***
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