My wife is a Lady, I think, Cause her knickers are narrow, and pink On the rim there is lace, On the bottoms a trace, Of the finest of beaver and mink.
On the ides of March Caesar was slain "Et tu, Brute!" he cried out in vain But Mark Antony knew How the public to woo The conspirators died for their gain.
Here's one I wrote on the Google game at MCiOS, in response to "beer limericks". On the thirty-first day of December I drank seventeen pints of Knee-Trembler(I had to -- any less wouldn't scan) I then climbed a tree And took a long pee That was certainly one to remember!
Off the top of my head, as a month has passed: When I hear Lenny Henry (that crooner) Say a word like "safari", I'd sooner, That a language so maimed By a Brummie, be named "Dudley Bantu" by Reverend Spooner.
A salty old sailor once said If I never had sex I’d be dead Cause I’ve sailed seven seas, And I’ve ate all my peas, And I'm really quite horny when fed.
One from the last pilg, which is a little mucky, but definitely stuck in my mind: Traversing the Cam in a punt I performed an incredible stunt I spun round the pole Did an eskimo roll While pleasuring Jeremy Hunt
The question of whether to live Resolves all my thoughts like a sieve If this too solid flesh Were dissolved in a mess There would be no goddammit to give.
As I went out one Saturday night I'm embarrassed to tell you my plight But my belt buckle broke And I mooned a poor bloke So he screamed and then ran out of sight