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Limerick Showcase
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A chance for players to showcase whole limericks for amusement & edification. Standard winning move for the purposes of euthanasia.
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G. Samsa's strange metamorphosis
(Which renders him horribly gross) is
Perhaps metaphorical
Or else allegorical
Or just unexplained mass psychosis
There was a young man, name of Swann
Whose sentences went on and on
Whatever he thought
He thought that you ought
To have every detail upon.
That night when we danced on the roof
We just did not want it to poof
So we took off our shoes,
Danced away all our blues,
Then I saw your left foot was a hoof....
A gay friend proposed that we wed
It’s the perfect solution, he said
We’d save on our taxes
And still we’d have access
To whomever we wanted in bed.

We both love collecting antiques
And cooking with garlic and leeks
You write and I edit!
And with our tax credit
We can wine dine and travel for weeks

And I thought, well—he laughs at my jokes
He’s more civilized than other blokes
He knows about money
He’s cute as a bunny
And I do get on well with his folks.

And so I agreed that we’d marry
He designed the bouquet that I’ll carry!
He picked me fab shoes
And booked us a cruise
And a bridesmaid -- an old queen called Barry.

Now I don't need to mow or to leaf rake
There's an all-you-can-eat plate of beef cake
Parading the house
Where I live with my spouse
Such bliss -- and it comes with a tax break!
[cfm] *applauds*
[Raak] Nice translation. But I thought I should post the original.

Ce bonhomme, nommé Swann, qui voulût
Que nous sussions sa vie et que nous
Ne perdissions pas même
Une miette de ses thèmes…
Hélas! Il se souvînt de tout
There once was a virgin who said:
"My hymen is safe 'til I'm wed",
Though one night in my Chevy,
When breathing got heavy,
She lost it, my back seat turned red.

There once was a man by the sea
Who farted at quarter-past-three
The smell lingered on
A full hour past dawn
I've got to admit it was me…
[CdM] Excellent translation! (I assume.)

Anonymous Linesmen unite!
You know that it is our plight
And highest ambition
To check each submission
And underline all with delight!

Tonight brings the last night of Yule
A time to get pissed, as a rule
Life returns to the drab
So let us all grab
Umbrella-drinks and jump in the pool

When Santa rides out on his sleigh
The little kids all shout "hurray"
Rudolph's nose is alit
So is Santa's (a bit)
From “Glühwein” with gleaming bouquet
Previous three excellent pieces of art were created some years ago on either of the 'Mornington' sites by some of the most frequent and genius submitters, so I am not the only one to blame!

A very old sailor once said
"Woe is me! I were better off dead!"
For he killed a great duck
Which incurred some bad luck
'Bout which Coleridge's tale must be read.
I can't get this one to scan very nicely - needs more work, but here's how it stands at present:

I lost my legs in Suvla Bay
How I wished I had died on that day
The survivors march by
Kids and I wonder why
As I hear Waltzing Matilda play

Btw, Raak - I'm thoroughly enjoying your Reader's Digest versions of the classics.

Enhanced version:

I lost my legs at Suvla Bay.
How I wished I had died on that day.
Now survivors march by
And as I wonder why,
I know "Waltzing Matilda" will play


In the house of a man that I tarried in
There was kept, in the attic, a harridan
But he wooed me with looks
Bade me put down my books
And eventually, Reader, I married him.
[Kim] Bravo!
Not a Limerick, but Rosie's "My friend Billy" poem in the Limerick game reminded me of the scansion of a George Formby style "Daytime TV" song I tried writing a while back:

I was lying in my room, one Monday afternoon, and I didn't know what to do.
I scratched my head, rolled over in bed, and switched on BBC2.
So I'm watching the telly, and scratching my belly, still in my dressing gown.
It was Cash in the Attic, with a woman in a static caravan in Braunstone Town.

Hidden texta grim part of Leicester

She sold everything she owned, 'cause she hated Methadone, and she wanted some better kicks.
She got one commission bid, for just twenty-seven quid, which was just enough for a fix.
Then a thought came through, this is BBC2, and a light shone over my head,
'Cause it's usually on on BBC1, this was Cash for an Addict instead.

A few samples where my undisciplined contribution made a big fuzz on http://parslow.com/mornington/
Version 1
Pablo: As I oiled up my ancient French horn
y_hron: I regretted the day I was born
Marc: 'cause my Ma the great cellist
Copper: Married pa known as Franz Liszt
Copper: Then they played out of tune all forlorn.
Version 2
As I oiled up my ancient French horn
I regretted the day I was born
'cause my Ma the great cellist
(and tubular-bellist)
Squeezed her legs around me - her firstborn.
Another version
As I oiled up my ancient French horn
I regretted the day I was born
'cause my ma the great hornist
Married Pa who was Franz Liszt
And he played till our ears were outworn.
 An excuse to Pablo and y hron whose great ambitions the rest of us obviously could not accomplish
And a big Thanks to Moom for the constructive suggestions to improvements!
As I oiled up my ancient French horn
I regretted the day I was born
'cause my Ma the great cellist
With her hairstyle up-trellised
Stopped playing and went into porn…
As I oiled up my ancient French horn
I regretted the day I was born
'cause my Ma the great cellist
Married Labours Dave Nellist
They'd expelled to his withering scorn.
There once was a storm in my head
Simulposting, made ‘Rosie’ turn red
Lim’rick experts beware,
Backseat drivers take care,
Frequent stops in our mainstream you’ll spread.
Our Pen, she is mightier than't' sword
A view that must not be ignored
For tilting at sails
In westerly gales
Is quixotic, and earns much reward.
Very good Rosie!
I'm writing this verse 'coz I'm bored
using time that I cannot afford
so much else I should do
such as sit on the loo
and flush when I once find the cord.
I've got rather a tickly cough
And my tonsils are feeling quite rough
As I sit here in Slough
And think this all through
I feel a bit better now, though.
Well done Phil, that's a tough one! ;-)
In the Highlands when new moon is full
Little lassies will give a hand pull
After while they will suck
And if you are in luck
You may mount them in kilts made of wool.

In order to seem more appealing
I'll plaster myself to the ceiling
From my lofty abode
'bove the family Spode
I'd welcome a cup of Darjeeling
.. from around 11 years ago - remember penelope and Kim being involved :-)
Don Quixote, a knight of La Mancha
Sallied forth on a life of advancha
He lived for the thrills
Of tilting at mills
Accompanied by Sanzo Pancha. (I know, but it rhymes better this way.)
I studied Midsummer Night's Dream
Where Bottoms are not what they seem
And nosegays abound
Puck a girdle puts round
And Titania takes one for the team (It was 30 years ago, and I've read no Shakespeare since)
[Chalks] Indeed. it was July 2003 - I just did some reading back. Wow. And wow again. There's an awful lot of pointless creativity here.

Could a day out in Dublin express
Ineluctable separateness
Of insight and knowing
And coming and going
And is it art? yes it is Yes
[Raak, Phil] Very nice, by the way. I think that, between the three of us, we have the makings of a book here. :-)
This is sort of a companion piece to Phil's earlier version of 'The Band Played Waltzing Matilda'
Will McBride, well I'm dead on my feet
But these poppies, they look really neat!
And so I'm here to tell
You that though war is hell
You'll find history doomed to repeat
[CdM] There's something very spiritually satisfying about the Limerick form. I think it's grossly underused in so-called "serious" poetry.
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