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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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'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?
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