mc5 - The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated

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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated

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And so it begins....

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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 text

Photoshop 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

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