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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.
I cheekily called "Hello, sailor!",
To the deck of a Japanese whaler,
But the seamen heard nowt,
Of my nautical shout.
Next time, I'll employ a loudhailer.

On a raucous night out, Colin Farrell
Got tanked up on Watneys Red Barrell
He proceeded to lose
First his wallet, then shoes
Then his dignity and his apparrel.

There was a young lady from Leicester
Who thought she'd become an inveicester
She put all her savings
Into mosaic pavings
'Cos this was the thing that obseicester.

Hidden text Mildly inebriated nonsense is all you're going to get this time of night.

Those people who drank Watneys Red
Were quite clearly weak in the head
It was't the ale
That caused such a fail
But the fact that their taste buds were dead.
(credit goes elsewhere but it's my favourite and it fits with the beer theme)
On the chest of a barmaid from Sale
Were tattooed all the prices of ale
And on her behind
For the sake of the blind
Was the same information in braille.

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
There once was a fellow called Tim
Who was tall, dark, and handsome and slim
And sexy as hell
And I never need tell
Anyone this isn't him.

"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?
[gil] ... as long as it's a limerick!
Yeah, OK, guilty [gil-ty] as charged.
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.

                               who, for a laugh
I would follow that up with a limerick about de Niro, but I can't seem to get it started ...
There was a young fellow from Merstham
Who had boils on his bum and he cursed 'em
When he sat on a chair
'Twas too much to bear
So he got a sharp knife and he burst 'em.
[jim] Look for it in between the last two horizontal lines of my last move.
Inspired from an oldie in MC5's limerick past...

I once met a psychic named Beth
Who told me the date of my death
'Twas two weeks ago
Which just goes to show
Her crystals were probably meth
Can we have a Glow-Worm showcase too?
[Giertrud] Good idea. In fact, can we re-purpose this game for all sorts of short poetry?
(I want to put my Hiawatha one in.)
But while I'm waiting for consensus, this was one was a corker thanks to Bobby Digital's superb ending line:
Projoy: When darkness doth shroud the Black Sea
Fat German: Milosevich nips out for a pee
Norma: When missiles start falling
JLE: While nature is calling
Bobby Digital: Just do up yer zipper, and flee!
When the man from Del Monte said "Yes!"
The peasants all made such a mess
With their juices a-flow
At tuppence a go
And a flavour I'm sure you can guess...
Professor Brian Cox is so famous
He's even well-known on Uranus
On Pluto, he's sleighted
(Secretly delighted)
Whilst Jupiter screams "ignoramus!"
Sorry, just had to rid the world of the politically correct pronunciation of a certain Wonder of the Solar System.
(Botherer) I've never pronounced it any other than the "rude" way which suits English speech better and gives us "uranium". Equally, we have "Venusian" when any fule kno it should be "Venereal". Poxy little planet, anyway.
My glow worm:

The last three lines of this verse
Form a nice haiku
By using five-seven-five
As they always do
The crack of doom threatens this world
So life to the stars must be hurled
Fire, asteroid, ice
'Tis a mere roll of dice
Let's escape; to its fate leave this world.
Shall I liken thee to a spring day?
You surpass all the sweet buds of May
For life, death's the fee
But while men breathe and see
These words shall your due date allay.
There was a young lady named Grager
Who as the result of a wager
Consented to fart
The entire cello part
Of Schubert's Quintet in C major

Possibly my favourite musical limerick
Inspired by Raak:

I wandered, alone, as a cloud
Floating high, till I spotted a crowd
Of gold daffodils
By lake, and on hills
Did I really say "That's nice!" out loud?

Apologies to W. Wordsworth

Through the valley of death they all rode
Cannons thund'ring, their fate did forebode
Storm'd by shot and by shell
They rode boldly and well
But when they asked why, no-one knowed.
Don't go gentle into that night
Rage, rage, 'gainst the dying of light
Father, don't slip away
Curse and bless me, I pray
'Cause tomorrow you might feel alright
I made a new world in six days
Planted men, but they went their own ways
I sent them damnation
Then offered salvation
If only they'll sing in my praise.
My love's like a rose, oh so red
Like a melody, stuck in my head
E'er in love am I
Till the seas turn dry
I'd walk ten thousand miles to your bed
When Adam first stood before Eve
She found it was hard to believe
That his bone could bring life
So he showed his new wife
Just how easy it was to conceive.
Nec tamen, nec zonam tamentes
Dulci vacuint spere ad lentes
Juvator lex sit
Sed in spem ilex fit
Quamquam Titus ab Philo volentes.
If only we'd world 'nuff and time
This coyness, my dear, were no crime
But since I can hear
Time's winged footsteps draw near
Let's get on with it -- your place or mine?
[Raak] Excellent - struggling to translate the latin one though :(
My mistress' eyes ain't like the sun
Such simile's much overdone
For I need no hyperbole
To love her superbole—
Without it, she's just as much fun
Splendid, all. Keep going! I might have a go when I find more time.
[Phil] There's a reason for that...
My true love's first present to me
Was a partridge upon a pear tree
By the end of the season
He'd gone past all reason
Who'll remove this brouhaha from me?
I wrote these two Yeatsian ones a few years ago; I forget what prompted them. Note: The correct pronunciation of Parnell puts the stress on the first syllable.

Come drink to a proud man called Parnell
As mourning bells ring out their far knell
None purer, nor fairer,
Than his love for Eire—
Than his love for Kit, none more carnal
 I once loved a lady named Maud
Gone away now with a fraud
I’ll sing my confusions
With classic allusions
And stop quick before you get bored
[Raak]
Hidden textAh, is it as much gibberish as it seems?

We three Kings of Orient are
With gifts we have travelled afar
Through field and past fountain
'Cross moor and o'er mountain
We're following that bloody star!

O wondrous great star of the night
Your beauty is royal and bright
Your route westward leading
You keep on proceeding
O when can we stop for a sh*te?
[Phil]
Hidden textExactly so!
[Phil] May I append the Kiwi version?

We Three Kings of Orient are
one in a taxi, one in a car
one on a scooter, tooting his hooter
Following yonder star.

O, star of wonder, star of light,
Star of beauty she'll be right
Star of glory, that's the story,
Following yonder star.
And thanks be to St Spike of Milligan, for this: sung to "San Francisco":

I left my heart in San Francisco
I left by knees in Buenos Aires
I left my little wooden leg
in downtown Winnipeg
I left my knees in Leicester Square

I left my teeth on Table Mountain
High on a hill
They smile at me
When I get back to San Francisco
There won't be much of me to see
The boy on the burning deck stood
Whence all had departed that could
He waited to hear
His father make clear
He could go -- but it did him no good.
To write dirty limericks you need
Dictionaries in which you will read
Dirty words that will match
A word rhyming with "snatch"
If you’re filthy like us you'll succeed!
We sailed so nice in a gentle breeze
Sun was setting and life was at ease
You were humming a song,
But not before long,
You were fast asleep, head on my knees.
When I see her my soul flies anew.
Oh tell me, just what must I do?
Should I finally mention,
My lifelong intention
Which was strigine; to whit, to woo!
How you twinkle, up there in the sky
I know not what you are, neither why
Like a diamond at night
You're tiny but bright
And till sunrise, you ne'er shut your eye.
I posted something like this one a long time ago, somewhere in the Morniverse:
For the crown that is rightfully mine
I shall poison my uncle's best wine
When he shuffles off
Past that dread bourne whereof
None return, I'll at his table dine.
I'll sing, "Happy Birthday to You"
And repeat, "Happy Birthday to You"
Whatever your name
The song sounds the same
"Happy Birthday to you". Yes, to you!
Half a pound of tuppenny rice
Half a pound of treacle
That's the way the money goes –
Unexpected item in the bagging area
May God save our wonderful Queen!
May God save our wonderful Queen!
May God save our Queen!
May God save our Queen!
May God save our wonderful Queen!
According to my late father, a school music teacher, a lot of the children only knew two lines of "God Save The Queen": "God save our gracious Queen" and "God save the Queen". You can sing the whole thing with just those.
Although all the lassies protest,
They love when you’re kissing their breast,
And caress, ‘you know what’,
While you’re rubbing their butt,
Then they let you go South heading West.
A golfer once said to his caddy,
“You know that I could be your daddy,
Cause I courted your ma,
When I caddied your pa,
Though to score was your own Uncle Paddy.”
Her stern was much wider than her aft
Though her starbord side looked like a raft
But the width of her gunwales
And fill of her mainsails
Made her deepness the same as her draught
When I hear Cliff sing "Mistletoe
And Wine" it makes me want to throw
Up into a bucket
But then I think. "**** it,
There's only five more weeks to go!"
To deal with a shrew needs no guess
I know just the thing that works best
At first she said "No!"
And again she said "No!"
But at last she said "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!"
Eye of newt, wool of bat, hubble bubble
The Thane's hopes shall all come to rubble
By lying with truth
He'll do deeds that aren't couth
Banquo's line shall outlive all his trouble.
The answer the great men had sought
Was given, at last, by Deep Thought
But the question, it seems
Is concealed in our dreams
And can't be begged, stolen or bought
Don't believe everything that you hear
Unless told at a pint of good beer
If it's Guinness you’ll know
She confirms she's aglow
When she nibbles the lobe of your ear.
Antonio's ships come to naught
So by Shylock's harsh contract he's caught
But he proves black is white
And the court finds him right
So he walks, leaving Shylock distraught.
There once was a man from Siberia
Who excelled by so many criteria
Still, his wit and his style
Were surpassed by a mile
By his fetchingly sculpted posterior

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!
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