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The Obligatory Limericks Game
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When the Crescenters arrive at Rab...
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I'll start screaming, in Welsh
And then loudly belch
"Mae hi wedi cachi arna i"s!"
The languages spoken in Wales
, As one pulls from ones eyes certain scales,
Seem quite out of tune
With 'Au Clair de la Lune
Though singing when telling Welch tales
His name was Llywelyn the Last
And he spoke in Welsh - very fast
His demise, it was gory
But it made a great story
With choruses sung by the cast.
His last name, 'tis true, was Llewellyn
He was known as a renegade felon
'though Polish by birth
he lived on Welsh earth
Ball kicking, but loves honey melon (o)(o) ! Gareth or Chris Llewellyn?
She played with his balls every night ...new ball game...?
Even tho' her interest was slight
But she found that the perks
Of sleeping with berks
Made playing with balls quite all right.
The sock hops I hold in my shed
Has made all my neighbours see red
There's blood up the walls
and stains on my balls!
Next time I will make them co-ed
He was told by his dear Uncle Andy:
"My boy, I am feeling quite randy"
He ran off with a cry
When I bit his thigh
Cause he feared I was after his candy.
In search of a drink alcoholic
To make my pet terrapin frolic
I chancéd upon
Spiked tea from Ceylon
For which all claims are quite hyperbolic. Worth a try, though, I'm sure. :-) (Chalky) V. classy!
These stories are utterly false
I’ve heard from the rear of the horse false rhyme warning!
They're a load of manure (Marc) Yeah, difficult, but there is a rhyme for "false", which I'm saving for line 5, unless someone else gets there first.
And their rhythm unsure though somewhat dancing, Rosie?
It sounds like a hesitant waltz.
The night-clubs of old Budapest (anonymouse, Darren) through which flows the Blue Danube, of course.:-)
Won't let anyone in in a vest
The dress code's so strict
And guests are handpicked
But once in, you can then get undressed.
The most famous thing about York (that last one was great!)
Was his monstrous penchant for 'pork' (Prince Andrew, Duke of York, and whichever form of pork you fancy)
But he fell on his sword
Whene'er he was bored
And then stabbed his fat rear with a fork
One morning they'd breakfast in bed,
The next they would play being dead
On the third, they'd be silly
By smearing hot chili
all over, including his head. Hot stuff!
There once was a woman who wrote:
"You can't beat good sex with a goat.
"The foreplay's not great,
But the horn is first rate
(Hang on while I go get my coat)
although there were a few inviting alternative rhymes if anyone wants to take another shot at that line...
A dancer named Lionel Blair
Had a secret and torrid affair
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