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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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For those who are easily memed [Chalky] Not "kite quantrary"?
Arr, me timbers do shiver
As we pass Yellow River
And anywhere else we have dreamed.
While swimming the Channel one day
I discovered I'd quite lost my way
A compass malfunction
Made me head for the junction
Outside Dover - to Chesapeake Bay...
The Brollys of ancient Cherbourg
Are lined up outside of the morgue
Les petits parapluies
Shield from raining ratatouille
The folks from Frogfunerals.org
Here's what you must do if I croak
Pierce my heart with a stake made of oak
For I am the undead
So you know what? Instead ...
Kill that strange looking werewolf bloke
Whenever I'm guessing I'm wrong
I'll simply break out into song
'Shaddapya Face' would suit my work situation right now
Rings around the workplace
But it's not by Olivia Ong.
Michelle Kwan was skating one day
When a bollard just got in her way
Alas, no triple lutz
For this ice-skating klutz
Hit the buffers, the skids and the hay.
American mothers opine
That plying their babies with wine
Will prevent ADD
But reduce ABC
And certainly make 'em quit cryin'.
When in Rome you should do as the Romans
And scrutinise entrails for omens
A goat's bloody gut
Or a eunuch's old nut
Then make a display - like a showman's
I once met a werewolf from Kent
Who helped me to put up a tent
This kind loup-garoux
Then cooked up a stew
With no meat because it was Lent
I just heard about a new diet
Put some tape 'cross your lips and keep quiet
And if/when you faint
Do show some restraint
When the urge to eat comes, then defy it.
The sticks and the stones aren't worth throwing
Except for the ones that are glowing
So instead I throw peaches
At piranhas and leeches
And cocks that are spitefully crowing
There's nowt like a good cup of char
It beats beer, wine, and coffee by far
And if the brew is Earl Grey
I would have to say
Spot on - award a gold star
A lass with huge melons, I spied
Piss-poor, Kagome. Please expunge your adolescent limerick fantasies elsewhere.
Here's the tale of a limerick prude
Who crudeness in rhyming eschewed
Bad fruit euphemisms
Resulted in schisms
And an effort to veto the lewd
Let's remember the Gunpowder Plot
Which failed; it was Fawked up a lot
Which is why every year
We all stand and cheer
While burning the Guy - what a twot
My mummy has fled from its tomb
Preferring a more deluxe room
It seems its abode
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