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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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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.
When the train stopped one hot afternoon
Adlestrop, I remember. 'Twas June.
Hay and meadowsweet, dry.
Scarce a cloud in the sky.
While the birds of two shires sang their tune.
[Phil] A mere five lines and I'm right there. Exquisite.
[Chalky] That was one of the several poems I was supposed to study for O-Level Eng. Lit. I managed a B, thanks to reading Lord of the Flies about 6 times, and Midsummer Night's Dream not being too dreary. I didn't like poetry then and, to be honest, I'm none too keen now, with a handful of exceptions. But I hated Adlestrop. Perhaps my English teacher (Mr Collins, a moron) would be pleased with my work at last :)
[CdM]
Hidden textOn reflection, I don't think I've ever seen a book of great works reduced to a Limerick abstract. Might I venture Limeriture, Limarature , Limericture or Literick as a working title?
[Phil, CdM] Do! Literick Limerature I Have Known or Literick Limeratures Down The Ages. Brilliant. Must try to get my head round one.
[Phil, pen] Well, the best example I know is by Wendy Cope.
Hidden textQuite what Wendy Cope is doing on a Best American Poetry< site is a mystery to me
On the other hand, she required five limericks for a single work, so we are clearly five times as good.

Also, I should note that while Phil, I and particularly Raak have been the most prolific on this theme, Kim supplied a nice entry as well, and there might be others I am forgetting.

The Brangwens, when women in love
Symbolically raven and dove
One craved adoration
Her kin, confrontation
So tragic - when push came to shove.
On a topical note:
We all know that roses are red,
And violets are blue, it is said.
But this lovesick old rogue
Thinks like Kylie Minogue
And I can't get you out of my head
Reposting from MCiOS's "HULK NEGOTIATE!":
What a wonderful verse form is this!
Sonneteers can all go take a piss!
Short, merry, and sweet
And as fast as bird's tweet
With my lady it surely can't miss!

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.

On a tree by a river - Tom-tit
Sang of willows, tit-willows, a bit
When a gurgle he gave
And plunged into his grave
The Mikado became a huge hit
A dog is a fine friendly fellow
Even if his fur is yellow
Yet when his bark is loud
It scares the whole crowd
And makes most of them mellow.

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

Sometimes I sits here and I thinks
Sometimes I sits here and I thinks
Sometimes I just sits here
Sometimes I just sits here
Sometimes I sits here and I thinks

When your thinking is over dear friend
And your worries has come to an end
Then it’s time to start over
Roll around in the clover
And a new stupid game to attend
He'd avoided the old hangman's noose
From the gallows he had gotten loose
There's no rope 'round his neck
But, Hey! What the heck?
Now it's wrapped 'round his caboose.

The charm of her smile was too much
It came on with the slightest of touch
When she flirted with me
I fell flat to my knee
Cause the Lady had stolen my crutch!
From Liverpool, where I lived wild,
I was led me to the moors; a mere child.
But when Cathy departed
I was left broken-hearted
And my rival in love I reviled.
I see that two full months have passed
Not a single new Lim'rick's been cast
Is the well of rhyme dry?
Is this game sure to die?
Please let not this verse be the last.
When in love you may well get a Heartache
Because love is as frail as a snowflake
Hearts melt quicker than snow
High pulse rate makes them glow
Though true love will survive the worst earthquake

I once was compared to a day
T'was summer; my love he did say
He then mentioned dimmed
And matters untrimmed
Good riddance young man - I'm away!

A rich man once tried via camel
To pass thru the eye of a needle
And though one got through
With his wealth in tow
He fell off - and went to the devil.

A lad named Jack with an urge to kill
Met his match in his step sister Jill
Both conceived of the crime
At the very same time
And got pushed to their deaths with a squeal.
On day one He made dark and made light
Next three days: earth, sea, trees and stars bright
Fish and birds on day five
Six made man and beasts live
Then He paused as He thought "That's alright!"
There once was a lady called Chalky
Who I spoke to on my walkie-talkie
She said, "Hello Rosie"
I said "Don't be dozy"
"You really wanted old Uncle Korky."
I’m stuck with my Siamese twin
When he’s going out then I’m coming in
He was screwing this miss
And of course got all bliss
But I just got blisters on my foreskin.

Timon gave all his money away
So his debts he could no longer pay
His friends all proved false
So he left Athens' walls
And struck gold, but then died anyway.

Eve was the apple of Adams eye,
And he was so fond of apple pie,
When the snake one day said:
Eat that pie - you'll be dead
He ate all, now he’s dead, and that’s why...

“I use a naughty lim’rick diet
To enhance my libido at night;
Helps the ol’ blood flow too,”
Endorsed Mr. MaGoo,
“And it’s done wondrous things for my sight.”
There now follows a sad tale of poor customer service in the Himalayas:
I once met an ill-tempered yak
Who configured my girlfriend's new Mac
He charged twenty quid
For all that he did
But I think I want fifteen quid back.

One might think that Will's lost the plot
Milk freezes yet crabs sizzle hot
As Love's Labour ends
Drear 'Winter' attends
And greasy Joan still keels the pot

On the moor a green lantern glows,
Midst heather's scent the cold sea breeze blows,
Waves were a crashin’
The clans be a clashin’
The mist lift and gray daylight grows...
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