mc5 - Limerick Showcase

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.

Pablo

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

penelope

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 text

Ah, 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 text

Exactly so!

Pablo

[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.

Pablo

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.

Simons Mith via Jed Davis on G+

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.

Marc (back to normal?)

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.”

Boatswain Marc

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.

cfm

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....

cfm

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…

Limerickwriters Unlimited

[CdM] Excellent translation! (I assume.)

Anonymous Linesmen Ltd

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

Limerickwriters Unlimited cont'd

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!

Anonymous Linesmen Ltd

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

Kim

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 text

a 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!

Ahem...

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…

Ahem 2...

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.

Rosie

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.