From Game 502 on MCIOS, courtesy of Rosie, yours truly, Stevie, Chalky and penelope
This line has been disinfected
And with Pfizer’s best twice injected
So roll up your sleeve
But don't be naive
Immunity's merely suspected.

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I have just discovered, via J Budziszewski's blog, that Thomas Aquinas wrote a near-limerick. It goes like this:

Sit vitiorum meorum evacuatio,
Concupiscentiae et libidinis exterminatio,
Caritatis et patientiae,
Humilitatis et obedientiae,
Omniumque virtutum augmentatio.

The scansion requires the vigorous use of a shoehorn with both hands, but the rhyming is good. It translates as:

May [the sacrifice] purify me from sin,
do away with my evil desires and passions,
bring me charity and patience,
humility and obedience,
and strengthen me in all virtue.

I couldn't resist, sorry Raak. Haven't looked in here in ages and work is really boring at the mo. I've proofread 300 pages of 700 so far and it's dull dull dull, so a bit of rhyme and meaning wrangling will do me good.
May the sacrifice cleanse me of sin,
Chuck libido and lust in the bin
And instead I would be
More goodY-goodY
And purer, both outside and in.

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[pen] Bravo!

(Stevie) I wonder if that applies to my trombonium. V good BTW. Rhagorol. Deg allan o ddeg.

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Oooh, I was mentioned in Sept 2019. Bizarrely because I came here to find the Tennyson limerick.

This was started by Radox The Green and Projoy:
Now Chancellor Nadim Zahawi
(Whose savings are not in Malawi!)
Thinks that he is the GOAT
But he won't get our vote:
We're not that daft, now, really, are we?

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Raak set the precedent above, so here is a sonnet. I recently had lunch with someone who amuses herself sonnetising popular songs, and I thought I would take on the challenge.

(Is it not rich?) And if I sound resigned
(Are we a pair?) I'm grounded; you're unmoored.
(Is it not bliss?) This is what fate designed:
(Don’t you approve?) One flying; one who’s floored.

At last I'd closed the doors of past desire
And opened yours with one speech to profess
But you’d left for another lover's fire—
The poets call this irony, I guess.

(Don’t you love farce?) The dreams that we’d ignored
(My fault, I fear) I thought were now aligned.
(Is it not rich?) My timing, though, was flawed;
(Is it not queer?) Ah well, then—never mind

The jaded exits, faded evening gowns...
Just strike the set, my dear. Send in the clowns.

Hidden text

I can't decide if 'Just strike the set and then deploy the clowns' would be a better final line. Substitute it if you prefer. :)

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Bit too highbrow for me. This is more my level:

Oh, what a beauty!
I've never seen one like that
Share #marrow