Three cheers for Mahendra Singh Dhoni A professional, sir, not a phoney When batting at cricket Or keeping the wicket It's quite clear that he stood alone-y.
From MCIOS, a couple of days ago, with yours truly, Projoy, Software, Stevie and Chalky providing the lines:
The "Dark Lady", for whom this is written, Is the one with whom I've become smitten. Her sensuous manner With torque wrench and spanner Transformed my once shy to twice bitten.
Just presenting Alternative facts on an Alternative meter with some Alternative rhymes on an Alternative language Mister Putin is truly an arse And fat Donald is playing a farce Mrs. Theresa May Like Frau Merkel’s okay Only Barack and Hill’ry are stars!
Just parlaying my good cheer. (belated Greetings for this new year, Marc.) Though the Bourgeois was played like a chump Knowing the game was rigged in the swamp When the ante got raised On he soldiered, unfazed He called ... and game's won with the Trump.
The crack of doom swallows this world But life to the galaxy's hurled By the might of our powers The stars shall be ours So the crack of doom may have this world.
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... Seduction, an old hobby of mine, and another reason for Pen to file complaints?
The day when Washington's drowned under water The politicos may say "We oughta "Have prevented this day!" But I think they'll say "It's just a problem for those that are shorter."
There once was a Kshatriya prince Who was given three reasons to wince: Sickness, death, and old age, But he then met a sage On the Way, which he taught ever since.
While addressing Conservative toffs Mrs May was afflicted with coughs With the aid of an actor It seems Boris sacked her To a mixture of cheers and "**** off"s.
Of Man's First Disobedience I'll write And how from Eden's gate they took flight Blood, toil, tears, and sweat Would be all that they'd get Till a new Adam set things aright.
Fürst Hermann von Pückler-Muskau Came to England in search of a frau He delighted the salons But his mercenary talons Brought him only a scandalous row.
Long, long ago, in days of old A Limerick got chaste by a Knight so bold Neck to neck with him in speed She failed, to outrun his steed T'is why, in nine months time, the Limerick foaled
Long long ago in days of yore Limericks were virginal and pure Then elites took them to bed ...... and chivalry being dead They'll not blush if you call them whore
Not a limerick, but a piece of found poetry from earlier this week (late April) that slotted into a memory of another poem from a long time ago. Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed, Droops on the little hands little gold head. Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares! The Mablethorpe Webcam is Awaiting Repairs.