In the catacombs under St Pauls Lives a man who wears twenty-five shawls He used to wear thirty But three got all dirty And two more got snagged on the walls.
I've recently moved to West Berks And my poems are scoring low marks My scansion's just fine But for every last line, I just can't find one more rhyme that works
An old spinster hen from South Worcester Was in need of a good morale borcester She did get it made When finally laid By a strapping young Rhode Island rorcester
"I cannot believe it's not butter" Is a phrase that you won't hear me utter For I'd much rather spread Worcester Sauce on my bread And yet people still think I'm a nutter!
A topical Dutch limerijk lifted from Twitter last night: Er was 'ns een meisje uit Haren Die wilde opvallend verjaren Ze plaatste een linkje Maar miste een vinkje Nu zit heel #Haren op blaren It refers to this incident and translates roughly as 'There was a young girlie from Haren Who made a conspicuous lapse She placed a link But missed a tick Now the whole of #Haren blistered'
Apologies for this mid-limerick Haiku, but I saw the Nederlandisch limerick and assumed "anything goes". Wise sausage advice From young Jamie Oliver... Prick with a fork, right?
Again, stolen off Twitter this morning. There once was a man from Lahore Whose limericks stopped at line four When asked why this was He said: "Just because."
And to complete the set (not my own work): There was a young maiden from China With a feeling for rhythm much fina She stopped at line three. There was a young man from Peru Whose limericks stopped at line two. There was a young man from Verdun.