arrow_circle_left arrow_circle_up arrow_circle_right
The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
help
And so it begins....
arrow_circle_up
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
Above flew a bomb-carrying Junker
As I took my sand-wedge
My partner, that's Reg,
Imbibed and got steadily drunker
I just met a man in the street
Oi! you've just done that one in MCiOS With knobbly knees and large feet
His clown shoes and nose
And his three-foot-long toes
In the circus he'd go down a treat
I just met a man in the street [Rosie] Hmm?
Extolling the virtues of wheat
When asked as to why
He said: "I can't lie,"
"I love having corns on my feet"
[Darren] Ooooow.

If you should encounter a chugger

Be wary - he may be a bugger
And the smile on his face
Hides a life of disgrace
For he is Al Fayed, that fugger.
My spleen has a mind of its own
My kidneys do nothing but moan
But my Heart is still beating
My stomach repeating
And the naughty part down there is blown (I'll get the coat and hat myself, thank you...)
While scouring the world for perfection
I discovered this chocolate confection
Which does contain nuts
cocain and cold cuts
Now I'm two inches stouter midsection
The world is imperfect, alas
Ecosystems are fragile, like glass
[irach] Elegant end to the last one. Well done; have an e-biscuit :-)

With one final jolt

The earth will revolt
And kick us all in the ass as our American friends would say.
Americans? Vulgar? Not so!
Nor Britons all snobs, don'cha know
Though the rest of the lot, (Well, not me of course!)
Live in countries too hot
Or places all covered in snow
In Boston they dumped some fine tea
In December, Seventeen-Sev'nty-Three
Out into the bay
Without a tea tray
It tasted just like weak gnat's pee
My hairdresser chatters away (Softers) The strong stuff is OK. Tangy.
About how he's overtly gay
He's into high camp
His wig curled - like a vamp
And he thinks he's the Queen of the May
If it weren't for the mould on the ceiling
I would not have this strange, awkward feeling
That I am about
To be left without
Anywhere that is not damp and peeling.
Each weekend I pursue my hobby
And please, do not think I am snobby
I ride with the hunt
Ride a fine Oxford punt
I'm a toff - and I'm also quite gobby
The dribble that runs down my chin
Gives clues to the state I am in
If frothy it means

(See comments for a line 4 and 5 that jumped out on me)

I've had lunch - Ham and beans [S M] Keep on jumping!
And if not, then I've been at the gin.
I once knew a man from Macau
So yellow - but man - could he bow
But his pale jaundiced skin
And his body so thin
Meant he died - so no bowing for now
Now it's time to prepare for the end !
All the portents and signs that way tend!
Armageddon is nigh
So the soothsayers sigh
You've been posted, alas, to Southend.
The incredible edible egg!
Gives a lift, gives a hand, gives a leg,
Does not give a shit
If Beluga - it's a hit!
And it fits in so well with my keg! (beer-keg that is!)
I'm obliged to point out it's a fact
That dogs who sniff crotches lack tact
But one's pheromones
(The pong of your stones)
Won't stop them - they're caught in the act.
There once was a stone that was wet
In Workington that I would bet Not funny for the residents, I do pity them
It stood all alone
In a No Parking zone
And no-one has dried it off yet
I tried to install a new light
To make my front porch much more bright
But the fuse I did blow
So the light didn't glow
Will I live through this dark, dark, dark night?
I've survived, I'm awake, I'm alive,
Thanks to my sparky mate Clive
I owe him a fiver
As he was the driver
Who drove through the farmers beehive.
Impossible as it may sound
I'm floating three feet off the ground
My odd levitation
Defies explanation
(A bean-propelled jetpack I've found!)
So let's praise the virtues of flatus Jokes about old farts will be treated with caustic soda.
At least let us make a conatus
Strike an ode to one's gas
Which will come to pass
All hail to that which doth deflate us
"The problem," she said, "with your face,
Is your nose is in the wrong place."
And your eyes, either side
Look like eggs - lost and fried
Like Camilla a quite hopeless case
On Tuesday the thirteenth of May
French workers entered the fray
No one knows if they've left
Though all "frogs" are bereft
Is it over? "Mon Dieu, je ne sais!"
In nineteen hundred and thirty
Dvorak suggested that QWERTY usa
Would make a fine song
For keyboard and a gong
But Fats Domino's fingers were dirty
In two thousand seventy-one
A monkey will edit The Sun
We will live in the sea
With our own Mini-Me
Thus my work on this earth will be done - mwaah-ha-ha-hah
In March of 2010
I shall leap from the top of Big Ben
In April I'll land
In the wild Rio Grande
And ride off in the sunset with Sven So that's something to look forward to...
A new cure is out for the flu
It's soup made with barnacle glue
Applied with a spoon
Beneath a full moon
Washed down with a glass of Fitou
I'm climbing the property ladder
Tho' the market's never been madder
This two-up-two-down
In the best part of town
With three toilets to empty my bladder
"Are you sure that you don't want to play?"
He asked as I held my toupee
"Just keep your hair on"
"Cos your head is a square 'un"
"So I'll stick your wig on with this spray"
While stuck in a snowdrift at Shap Road or rail.
I was in need of a pony and trap Invoking Sound of Bow Bells option
But arriving instead
Was a man dressed in red -obligatory-
Who said: "Ho, ho!" and gave me a slap.
The reason for Boxing Day's name
Is act-tew-a-lee rather tame
The story is this
It was Joe Frazier's diss
Who boxed blind against Clay - what a shame!
The correct reason is that our mailboxes get overfilled with christmas-spam...!
My need for posh choccies is sated
To Messrs Thorn-tons I'm related
It's the ones filled with cream
About which I dream
Which make me so fat, I'm inflated.
Ten nine eight seven six five
Four three two, soon the New Year will Jive
There'll be drunkards galore
And sick on the floor
But we've made it, one more year alive!
So let's praise the Tolpuddle Martyrs
Transported for wearing lace garters
For being in drag
Whilst waving a flag
And all that was only for starters!
A scandal has just been exposed!
Sleeping Beauty ne'er slept, she just dozed
And the Prince he was gay
And his lover, José,
Was bisexual, when so disposed.
Are you sure that this road lead to Rome?
The signpost says "IV leagues to Nome"
But that's a diversion
By the Vandal's incursion
Oh sod it, I think I'll go home
The French tailors Toulon and Toulouse
Stitched the Pimpernel's long coat too loose
The outcome was this -
(and was sealed with a kiss)
That he fell for mamsell de la'Cruise
I've got an idea for a game
That's why I'm glad we all came
To this fine-tuned decision
Let's add circumcision
We laugh, we play, we maim.
I think we should just stick to Scrabble
Such joy when with words one can dabble
Deploy your best tiles
Stack your points in high piles
Keep quiet, we don't want your babble
The thing about Trivial Pursuit
Is that friends (who were friends!) will dispute
As the questions reveal
What the players might feel
And knowledge reluctantly salute
My hard drive it needs a defrag
Loading programs is becoming a drag
And it's not "drag and drop"
It's all over the shop-
I'd go on, but you'd think I just brag. The only other rhyme I could think of was "Morag".
SM - what about "slag"?
I think I've got texter's thumb
http://www.rhymezone.com/r/rhyme.cgi?Word=drag&typeofrhyme=perfect&org1=syl&org2=l
I think I've got texter's thumb
It's turned purply-blue and is numb
So the message I send
Will probably end
Up a right load of bollocks, old chum.
If you notice my shiny attire [S,i,R,J,P] excellent!
That is made of brand new barbed wire
Then your eye is quite sharp
So thanks, Twyla Tharp,
For a dress that's my fondest desire.
There are days and besides there are Mondays
Which rarely we find are the fun days
They can sure get one down
From dawn till sundown
Or a week - 'cause today it is Tuesday.
By Jove, what a beautiful van!
At the wheel I can see Princess Anne
She's towing a trailer
On the way to her tailor
While her horn toots a regal pavane.
While waiting for lights to turn green
I polished my horn to a sheen
But the burnishing friction
At the traffic restriction
Turned everything red - ain't that mean?...mercy...?
There once was a game in Vancouver?
At which I was a shaker and mover
I moved and I shook
People gave me that look
But I carried on using my Hoover [Marc] Why the question mark? Just curious
[Chalky] They said there was an Olympic Winter Game going on but I was not sure that anyone noticed (though all TV-channels all over the globe had almost nothing else to show ;-)
In the steep slopes of Aspen she fell,
For a ski-bum who skied oh so well
As she gazed at his pole
An unmarked snow patrol - [Marc] Ah I see. Well I watched loads of it. v enjoyable :)
said "Go for it, love - what the hell?"
While planning a raucous weekend
With my mate, his wife and her friend
We thought that the bed
Would make a fine sled
And wouldn't be this hard to mend
There was a young fellow called Eric
Who climbed to the top of a derrick
Then he climbed down again
Because of the rain
Getting wet made him really hysteric
It's Friday, let's go to the pub
For a beer and a B.L.T. sub
A packet of nuts
And chicks with great butts
In the crowd we may get a good rub?
[irach and Marc] eh? It's not a discussion I really want to get into, but the lines that you two just wrote are either crap or very offensive. Or both.
[pen]If you don't want to discuss a matter, why on earth do you post your remark? Hopefully we did not offend you, at least my line was not directed against anyone in particular. Our lines are well in line with the normal standard of the limericks at this and adjacent sites whether you like them or not.
There once was a man who got lost
[Marc] I wish to register my displeasure, that's why. And yes you did offend me, and your lines were below the standard I have come to expect - they don't make sense without the filthiest of interpretation, they don't scan, and they're laboured.
As on the night train he had dossed (Marc) pen is right - it wasn't one of your better ones.
He woke up at Lands End
Which was sure to offend,
And so out of the train he was tossed
There once was a girl with a butt
So fancy and with a great cut
Its streamlined perfection
Could cause hard erection
For those who had more than one nut! [Rosie]This one is just for you because you always defend us lonely little girls like the brave White Knight of mc5!
I stare at the moon - it stares back (Chasty) I'm flattered. Have you got her email address? :-)
As I'm out in the park in my mac
And alone in the dark
Sans my girlfriend from Sark
So I'm hoping to score some good crack.
A line that may satisfy all
Runs from far Samarkand to Kirkstall
And if you take the trains
Nobody complains
Once you've covered your arse with a shawl.
Sensibilities are easily shaken
Like when offering the Rabbi some bacon
Or when having to put up with this rhythmically inappropriate heap of steaming ordure. Free-form limericks, anyone?
[Monica and Beck] Please don't worry, Headmaster Rosie may sound a bit peevish now and then. What is meant is probably that you should try to follow the established Limerick rules that you may find here: http://poetry-please.tripod.com/id5.html
For instance:
Your senses are easily shaken
When offering the Rabbi some bacon
Or step someones toes
With lines you compose
For the Mick is easily taken
My mellifluous contra-bassoon
Is best played up on the moon
Where the absence of air
[Rosie] - not getting much sex? I understood this was a recreational activity you sad repressed mare.
[monica (any relation to Monica?)] Like all recreational activities, limericks and sex are both better when done right.
Prevent blowjobs beware ;-)
And ends not a moment too soon
When mixing hot air and stale gas
It is all about volume not mass Yankee pronunciation invoked...
So just wave your fan (irach) Same as Britpron. Even Ian Paisley says mass.
And follow the plan
Outlined in your chemistry class
On Mondays its back to the job
We’ll struggle to make a few bob
So play wi' t'computer
and search for a suita-
-ble way to escape the dull mob. [Kim] Well played.
There was a young fellow whose ears (Kim, Raak) V good.
Would attract derision and jeers
Yet Camilla, his wife
Cut them off with her knife (Oh no, not Camilla??)
And now they're hereditary peers
While planning a trip from Heathrow [Chalks] Bravo!
I thought "Tube". Give it a go
But a dim adolescent
Set light to the Crescent -- WE know what that means ..
And now the whole place gonna blow!
In Cairo the alleys are narrrow
Down which the marchers from Jarrow
Filed one at a time
Off-course for the Tyne
It's a far cry from fish and stuffed marrow
According to George Bernard Shaw
the content of Newton's first law
Was known to the Greeks
To need a few tweaks
Or it stayed where it was, on the floor.
All sailors get wet when they sail
Most whalers will wail when they whale
But anglers who angle
And their maggots they dangle
Will spin to us all a tall tale
A seller of second-hand wigs
Had his stock nicked by one Ronnie Biggs
This infamous blagger
An outrageous swagger
Swapped the lot for a handful of figs
A gourmand who loves parboiled quince
Presented his tart to the Prince
The Prince found her willing
For the price of one shilling
To sit on his face ever since (shame on you guys!)
A nun who was chaste and devout
Thought one day she'd find out
That her promise to God
Was remarkably odd
So she decided to put it about
There once was a redheaded blonde
Who dyed froggies pink in a pond
She claimed that this hue
Would improve their virtue
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***
There was an old man of East Cheam
Who was known to be "broad in the beam"
His magnificent rump
Was both rounded and plump
And out of his bunghole came steam.
My mother snores like a pig
[KS] Don't you mean your grandmother?
And besides she is awfully big (assuming grandmother for several reasons ;-)
Asleep on her back
All her muscles go slack
And off slip her rings, teeth and wig.
To prevent vi'lent earthquakes one must
Roll in a pile of gold dust
And then drill a deep hole
Eat ragoût of vole
And watch 'Monte Carlo Or Bust'.
The fear of a bursting balloon
Has fettered this worthy Walloon Walloon: n. One of a French-speaking people of Celtic descent inhabiting southern and southeast Belgium and adjacent regions of France.
For a bang in Bastogne
Makes him flee to Boulogne
And wet his brand new pantaloon
In the theatre I'll make a new life!
Away from the trouble and strife
As the curtain ascends
I have four hundred friends
At the end they threw apples and knifes!
"This weekend the office is closed,"
"We're having the furniture hosed"
"All the coffee and crumbs"
are all quoted by Mums
When they're feeling unkindly disposed
So shoot me :^)
No problem! Marc, pass me my gun Well you asked for it Spangle
Multiposters shall die, every one! (Actually, we usually let them off with a keelhauling these days.)
But first we'll keelhaul 'em
Hidden textBut we keelhaul 'em first would have been kinder
Then let rottweilers maul 'em Can't believe the assembled peoples did not object vociferously to Marc's utterly atrocious "knifes".
Then chop off their heads just for fun! (Sorry folks, I saw a lot of rotten apples and knives in the air that night… ;-)
Long ago when all maidens were chaste,
And their stays were laced tight at the waist
Men used to try
All brave men used to try (adding a few syllables...)
With a grip ‘round their thigh
If their legs were sufficiently spaced
He shrugged off their words with distain
Accompanied by this refrain:
"Sticks and stones - hurt my bones,"
Do people get some perverse pleasure out of spoiling this game for others? C'mon man - you've been playing here long enough :^)
Let's see what can be done with this
"Your sticks and stones
May hurt my bones"
But, you see, I'm in love with such pain
He shrugged off their words with distain
Accompanied by this refrain:
"Sticks and stones - hurt my bones,
As do hurled traffic cones
But, you see, I'm in love with such pain"

 ?
[SM] Well done - I didn't see anything wrong with Marc's line either, which uses a correct anapaestic rhythm. I would like to object to no-one picking up on the incorrect spelling of "disdain" though.
[Phil] I overlooked nasty "distain"
There's a problem it seems with my brain
It seems to be telling
Me to ignore spelling
When used in a hum'rous refrain

Sorry for horrible scansion.
He shrugged off their words with disdain
Accompanied by this refrain:
"Sticks and stones - hurt my bones,
Not to mention cellphones,
That keeps filling my ears with deep pain!” (enough of this then...)
[Phil] Interesting - until you said it, I couldn't hear Marc's line in a way that made it correct. The influence of the rhythm of the original 'Sticks and stones' chant just got in the way, I suppose.
A young lady from old London town
Wore to Ascot a transparent gown
The resulting mêlée
Caused by said negligée
Turned the once verdant lawn dirty brown
This young woman's gauzy attire The theme is worth developing a little more
Was based on a thin frame of wire
It was easily bent
To convert to a tent
With a leftover piece for a spire.
Friday night and the eggnogs are free (Well done all, free eggnogs to everybody including Sprangle!)
The young ladies are drunk as can be
Alas, so am I
And I want pumpkin pie
But none of these babes bake, you see?
The cult of the hero is flawed (Cheers Marc - jolly generous under the circs :^)
Lesser mortals are easily awed
arrow_circle_down
Want to play? Online Crescenteering lives on at Discord