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.
A backward limerick borrowed from James Hogg A backward young fellow from Chester Didn't know what to do, But then met someone who Adored it when fellows undressed her, A forward young lady from Leicester.
There once was a man with no penis Whose ejaculate was intravenous When he'd built up enough Of all that white stuff, So much for his underwear's cleanness!