arrow_circle_left arrow_circle_up arrow_circle_right
Limerick Showcase
help
A chance for players to showcase whole limericks for amusement & edification. Standard winning move for the purposes of euthanasia.
arrow_circle_up

My dear mother said "Use your brain"
"Don't drive all that way. Take a train."
So I took her advice
(I don't need telling twice)
And now I'm doing 15 years in Wandsworth for grand larceny, operating a locomotive without a train driving licence and the kidnapping of one train driver, four conductors, 83 passengers, four dogs and a budgie named Jane.
I've recently picked up a cough
It's making life hard to get through
This out I must tough
Shun of Despond the Slough
And seek help from the folk of the borough.
[Raak] That's so good it needs plagiarising...
Behold ye the red-legged chough
Which nests on the end of a bough
Where it pecks out a trough
Feeds its young just on dough
And suffers a constant hiccough.
Boris on the burning deck
Which he had set alight
Surveying of his life the wreck
While maintaining he was right.
The cure for all Mankind's ills
Can be found in my patented pills
They should be taken when cool
No! Just one you damned fool!
Aaaand another fool's pushin' up cowsills.
A question for C.S. Lewis.

When Peter, and Susan and Ed
And Lucy got crowns on their head
Regarding gestation:
The next generation
Should come from which marital bed?
Primogeniture wasn't invented
So nobody's honour was dented
A new king appeared
Whom all the folk cheered
And all scandal was thereby prevented.
Someone on WhatsApp mentioned they'd had to write a poem on the theme "tree", and in reply, I made this up in 60 seconds, without time to make apologies to Joyce Kilmer...

There once was a beautiful tree
That wasn't so lovely to me
As any old pome
Pulled out of a tome
Pulled out of a beautiful tree.

Two festive limericks prompted by Projoy and this article on King Charles and his replantable Christmas tree.

goldfinch - King Charlie’s replantable tree
Makes a bold point on ecology,
Strong on conservation
Yet on his oration:
A touch wooden, his delivery.

Projoy - Charles drawls from a room that's enchanting
For now it's a "sir", not a "ma'am" ting.
He signals his virtue
with pine (or a birch?) who
Like him needs a speedy replanting.


The child, being close to the floor,
sees the dust gather up, more and more.
The cracks in the wall
grow, as children grow tall
till they leave; dust thrown up; closing door.
To eternity Sisyphus will
Roll his boulder atop Dollis Hill
The thrill of defeat
The will to repeat
Was, will be, and ever is still
A long time ago, I would pray
I could make the folk dance when I'd play
But then February's news
Bought a fresh wave of blues
The music had died on that day


So bye-bye, Miss American Pie,
The levee I drove to was dry.
Good ol' boys in their folly
Raised whiskies to Holly
'This will be the day they I die.'

On the day that the music expired,
The levee dry, Chevy flat-tired,
The Book of Love closed,
The jester deposed,
Music dead and American-Pyred.
[P, g] Very nicely done, both of you! I’m glad to have planted the seed for those.
[CdM,Pj,g] When limericks go right. Like the collective AP effort in the Game itself - poignant but very satisfying.
This was communicated to me a long time ago by the late Mr. G.T.Hughes; Rosie père

There was an old queer of Khartoum
Who took a lesbian up to his room
He said to his mate
Now let's get this straight
Who does what, and with what, and to whom?

Another in the same vein and from the same source:

There was a young lady from Stornaway
Who had her virginity torn away
She said "Never mind"
"I've had a good grind"
"And taken that young fellow's horn away"

We need more filth. Where's Phil - normally a rich source.

Settling the question of pronunciation, once and for all...

I see that you've ordered a scone.
I'm afraid I've just looked and there's none.
Alas, times are tough,
Can I offer you, though,
Some soup? We've a nice minestrone...
Many hundreds of moons ago (literally), one of my brothers
Hidden textnot NotJohn
and I composed some limericks based on Welsh counties. I've attempted to dredge up and reconstruct three of them.

A Methodist preacher from Gwynedd
Said “The man who continually synedd
Goes to hell when he dies—
’Less he scores lots of tries
When the Kingdom of Heaven he wynedd”

There was an old actor from Powys
Whose Richard showed dubious prowys
“The winter!” he went
“Of our discontent!”
(Always forgetting the “Nowys”)

A hopeless romantic from Dyfed
Said “Come see the world, my belyfed!”
But when they got no ferthyr
Than a guest house in Merthyr
She quite rightly told him to styfed

A bad boring bard from Glamorgan
Wrote verses about his own organ
Should you read them, be sure
To give up by line four—
At which point the conclusion is foregone
[CdM, after 30 minutes] They're harder than they look. I can see why you skipped Clwyd.
Rewilding is the thing in Clwyd
Though the species defined are quite fluid:
I once met a bear
Which gave me quite a scare
For into my pants I just pwyd.
[Projoy] I think we did have one with Clwyd but I’ve completely forgotten it. Perhaps because it was no good.
Said Huw Brys, a poet from Clwyd
"I'll write of my home, and not rwyd!"
But in Betys-y-Coed
He completely destroed
His verses. He blwyd—and knwyd
(CdM) I chortle. My Dad would be amused and impressed. BTW it's Betws-y-Coed.
[Rosie] Thank you. And of course it is; how embarrassing. Can I restore some of my semi-Welsh cred in your eyes if I tell you I do know how to spell (and pronounce) Llanfairpg?
(CdM) That's an easy one - just look at the signposts - they say LLANFAIR P.G. as do the bus destination blinds. The 58-letter version (a 19th century commercial gimmick) is for tourists only. 0
Y tanllinellwr hwyr

They staged the Eisteddfod in Gwent
So long-winded Rhys packed his tent.
He was, as things stood,
(and as poets go) good.
So, as good poets go, off he went.
Re-incarnation. This seems as good a place as any to mention it, that my late mother's maiden name, Eluned Morgan, is exactly the same as the new First Minister for Wales. Now don't start getting bossy, mother. Remember you're now a Hughes, like me, sort of thing.
[Rosie] I'm back, and potentially working on new Philth.
Well, frankly, I have to be blunt
While I try to put on a brave front.
Since the day he stood down
This bard's worn a frown.
Oh how I miss Jeremy Hunt!
We’ve got a new maid called Chrysanthemum
Who said, “I have just come from Grantham, m’m.
I lost my last place
In the sorest disgrace,
‘Cos I snored through the National Anthem, m’m.

When the space-time continuum pauses
'Cause a flaw in the temporal laws is
Redirecting time's courses
The effect then (of course) is
That effects will effect their own causes
Another Welsh one, written for my cousin.

There was a young woman from Aber
Who grew sick of this cad who would grab 'er
Deploying her charms
She broke both his arms—
Whence his gasted was utterly flabber

Hidden textAuthor note: The use of the antiquated term cad is for comic effect within the limerick form, and is not intended to in any way trivialise the seriousness of sexual assault. Also, while the author understands the use of violence in response to such assault, this should not be take to mean that he necessarily condones it. But, to be clear, the cad definitely deserved it.


Is it true? That we're reaching the end
of this website that's been my old friend?
I'll miss mc5
When no longer alive
But closures have long been the trend.

So long and farewell it's been fun
This twenty first century run
Fine games and neat verses
Those elegant curses
What now friends - when all's said and done?

The Crescent shall never die
While there's still two alive who can try
And express themselves funnily
Rhymingly, punnily,
Making games of the times that go by.
Want to play? Online Crescenteering lives on at Discord