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The Obligatory Limericks Game
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When the Crescenters arrive at Rab...
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Whilst overindulging on veg
I managed to fall into a hedge
Beneath which, I found
ten dollars, one pound
And an ageing gay rocker named Reg
A predisestablishmentarian
Said this, to a parliamentarian
"The Bishop of Ely (snorgle) Are you absolutely certain that Parliament existed in the predisestablishment era? I only arsk. :-)
Just gave me a feely
Which proves he's a humanitarian."
And copped an incredibly hairy one
sorry - Simulpost Carry on
'On a course aimed at self-cultivation
We learned about auto-cremation
So give me a match
And a nicorette® patch
Self-esteem, Self-respect, immolation!
Exteleologicalism (that's better, I was trying to find a word that would take up a whole line).
*sigh*
Exteleologicalism
When spelled wrong can cause rheumatism
But with letters correct
It is not, I suspect
A reason for triumphalism
Proper spelling's a thing that's essential
Lest your writing's deemed inconsequential
So practise with letters
As do all good typesetters hope that's spelt right . . .
When slinging the lead to their betters.
Vary the rhyme scheme for kicks!
Or instead of just five lines, write six!
Yes, lengthening's one of our tricks.
When we get to the middle
Of the Rhymsterists's riddle
Attempting to fiddle
Around with the form, and to mix
In even more words, making the whole structure very hard to fix.
*Bing-bong* An announcement for you:
Pink will henceforth be sky-blue
Red is now Green
Fergie is now Queen
And all that was false is now true.
This lim'rick, in truth, is a lie
It was written by him on the sly
While him on the swings
Eating butterfly wings
Was sitting there wondering why.
While binning a pile of junk mail
I bumped into Donna McPhail
She's lived in my bin
With her patrilineal kin
writing jokes which invariably fail
My golden retriever once said
I fancy a trip to the Med
I sent him at once
'cos they've now banned the hunts
Which makes it hard keeping him fed.
On a bus into town one morning
A huntsman jumped on, without warning
, yelled, "Follow that Fox!"
Pointed at my red socks
I said, "They're pinks, now stop all that fawning"
While murdering a Chopin Mazurka
Veiled in her secretmost bhurka
The lady concerned
Amusingly gurned
And dreamed of her broad-chested Gurkha.
The cast of Auf Wiedersehen Pet
doubled as stagehands building the set
Their cry was, "Oh Lordie!" [setting up a rhyme there]
"We're almost all Geordie!"
"Except for that daft Brummy get!"
^^^^ Very good one! ^^^^

In time, we will look back and laugh

At the day we got stuck in the barf
As the water was rising
What we found most surprising
was the vulgar response of the staff.
Simplicity runs in my veins
I don't care for lacquers or stains
I like everything plain
I'll say it again:
I use spoons to hack off my chilblains.
The rain in Spain's mainly on plains
As stated by those with large brains
But the snow in Oslo
As any fule kno
Is there in spite of the Danes
The frost in Spain's mainly on cars
And the ex-pat's are mainly in bars
They get drunk most nights
And dress up in red tights
And dance like there's frost in their drawers
For those who are cymbocephalic
Cries of "egghead" ("oeuftête" if you're Gallic)
You look like a Martian
Much less than a Spartan Bastard rhyme, Rosie
All in all, you look really quite phallic.
Some people, it seems, like the snow (Softers) As I realised too late. :-(
But what I like, I really don't know
I've tried asking my
psychoanalyst why
I'm so fond of the stuff. He don't know Sorry for the grammar,but had to be done.
My fav-our-ite colour is blue
Dunno why, strange but it's true snorgs] simulposted, but I agree with you ;]
And that sky blue pink
I what most people think
I = Is :-(
Is a warning when bad weather's due. .. shepherds, notably. [not sure where you were heading with that line, Software, but I did my level best]
Personal hygiene's a must
In the places where gathers most dust
That hole in the tummy
is not always yummy
Go elsewhere to express your lust. Sage advice
One should never hide one's own smell
For perfume will damn you to hell
Especially if male
Are smelling like "Dead Whale"
For your pheromones will ring someone's bell.
The flowers that bloom in the spring Ought to be in quotes, really.
Are worn in the beard of the king
So let us cheer
And quaff lots of beer
And do ye olde "whoop-de-doo" thing.
Line. Drat.
The truth about Morecambe and Wise
Is they both shared the same pair of eyes
No-one could tell
save Eskimo Nell
Which joker was which, for a prize.
There once was a poet from Bonn
Who had lots of clothing to don
From her thong to her coat
and her little pet Stoat
Backwards strip-tease is a con!
If you are a fan of punk rock
You're locked in a timewarp, old cock. (Simons Mith) Quel espèce de con?
Such a '70's fad
You're worse than my dad
Whose tank-top and sideburns I mock.
Les mots vulgaires sont, ici, [rosie] j'suis tant choqué.
Je plaid coupable, tant pis. (nights) Well, at least someone got the joke. :-)
Par exemple, rupettes
Ou une bite à baguette
c'est chouette, quand nous faisons ceci. [rosie] what can I say, j'suis geeque.
The last one was lost in translation
No great loss (francophile masturbation)
When language gets screwed
And poets are lewd
We'll just leave to play Bifurcation.
Please start without me, I'm on leave/There once was a Lim'rick for sale
{And I've something that's hid up my sleeve / There's no chance of a sudden reprieve } / { Which came with a free pint of ale / Which was rather too old and too stale }
{Is this a dagger?; I'll produce it when/I'm doomed to remain; For fourty-eight hours}
{And a packet of nuts; It was Ruddles' best/The old man from Dover; Fresh blood was required}
Please start without me, I'm on leave
        And I've something that's hid up my sleeve
                Is this a dagger?
                        Or far Wagga-Wagga
                        Or an old Eton fagger
                I'll produce it when
                        I'm a master of Zen
                        The time's right, and then
        There's no chance of a sudden reprieve
                I'm doomed to remain
                        On this long-delayed plane
                        On a far darkling plain
                For fourty-eight hours
                        I must grade all these flours
                        I shall drink whiskey sours
There once was a Lim'rick for sale
        Which came with a free pint of ale
                And a packet of nuts
                        With a taste of goat butts
                        And some choice sirloin cuts
                It was Ruddles' best
                        Called Old Everquest
                        And stank of birds' nests
        Which was rather too old and too stale
                The old man from Dover
                        Who smuggled it over
                        Said "I'm glad it's over"
                Fresh blood was required
                        To make it inspired
                        To set it on fire

I'll have a go at the first one:

Please start without me, I'm on leave
And I've something that's hid up my sleeve
Is this a dagger?
Or far Wagga-Wagga
It's neither [or so I believe]
Left over from last New Year's Eve?

Please start without me, I'm on leave
And I've something that's hid up my sleeve
Is this a dagger?
Or an old Eton fagger
If so, then I must be naïve
Applying some fresh Ibuleve®?

Please start without me, I'm on leave
And I've something that's hid up my sleeve
I'll produce it when
I'm a master of Zen
And then, only then will retrieve
A state which is hard to achieve.

Please start without me, I'm on leave
And I've something that's hid up my sleeve
I'll produce it when
The time's right, and then
My state of mind you will perceive
You'll see why my name isn't Steve

Please start without me, I'm on leave
There's no chance of a sudden reprieve
I'm doomed to remain
On this long-delayed plane
Feeling sick with a strong urge to heave
With a cousin of Christopher Reeve

Please start without me, I'm on leave
There's no chance of a sudden reprieve
I'm doomed to remain
On a far darkling plain
With only this basket to weave
With piles of old timber to cleave.

Please start without me, I'm on leave
There's no chance of a sudden reprieve
For fourty-eight hours
I must grade all these flours
Amongst those who pillage and thieve
After which, a sponge cake I'll receive

Please start without me, I'm on leave
There's no chance of a sudden reprieve
For fourty-eight hours
I shall drink whiskey sours
It's by far the best way I can grieve.
At this rate I'll never conceive

I see no-one has yet attempted the second mighty-furcation - The Lim'rick for sale one...
Yesterday - it took me quite a long time to find 16 viable rhymes for the Please start without me one, and as I didn't want to hog the whole thing ... I stopped there. Anyone up for it?
[Chalks] A whole morning, and nobody has dared reply... Whaddyawannadoo?
Chalky] Go for it.

OK - here's part two:

There once was a Lim'rick for sale
Which came with a free pint of ale
And a packet of nuts
With a taste of goat butts
No kidding - just try and inhale!
And seventeen newly plucked quail

There once was a Lim'rick for sale
Which came with a free pint of ale
And a packet of nuts
And some choice sirloin cuts
Just right for the discerning male
A feast of gargantuan scale!

There once was a Lim'rick for sale
Which came with a free pint of ale
It was Ruddles' best
Called Old Everquest
So called 'coz it's beer's holy grail
Available only by mail

There once was a Lim'rick for sale
Which came with a free pint of ale
It was Ruddles' best
And stank of birds' nests
When newly blown down in a gale
But tasted of rancid ox tail

There once was a Lim'rick for sale
Which was rather too old and too stale
The old man from Dover
Who smuggled it over
Went straight to her majesty's jail
Dropped dead from a surfeit of kale

There once was a Lim'rick for sale
Which was rather too old and too stale
The old man from Dover
Said "I'm glad it's over"
"The new version I'll now unveil"
"The rhyme pattern WAS rather frail."

There once was a Lim'rick for sale
Which was rather too old and too stale
Fresh blood was required
To make it inspired
It's now reading Language at Yale
To be a nonsensical tale

There once was a Lim'rick for sale
Which was rather too old and too stale
Fresh blood was required
To set it on fire
And fresh words for comic detail
And give it that sting in the tail

*phew*

*creates a thunderous round of applause*
*gapes in awe. actually in bath, not awe, but you get the idea*
*WOW, very impressive masterpiece of bifurcation!*
There once was a Virgin so chaste ...not thinking of Camilla...?
Who refused to marry in haste ...no, no similarities at all...
Chalky] *jumps up and down cheering* WOW! Do we have a new game idea here?
"I'd rather," she said Chalky] Wow! Irouleguy] Well, there is still the furcation game...
"Keep wetting the bed"
"than indulge in an act so debased."
I'n't there 'owt else to eat but this food?
Ah'm clammin' and I'm norrin the mood
Fer this fancy frog shite
W'll 'av me up al' nite
unless . . .Aww Noooah, ah've pooed.
The duck à l'orange is delicious [I wonder .. do people still eat that?}
And the sole meniere is nutritious [Chalks] Yes, I had it on my birthday, last month. It was delicious.
The crème caramel
Has gone down very well
But the wafer mints make me suspicious.
Waiter! The bill, if you please / Excuse me, can we get the check [Raak] That had me laughing out loud.
As soon as we've finished our cheese/And we're moving inside 'fore we freeze

Or I'll miss my flight to Quebec/Don't worry, it's all on Cal Tech
Our taxi awaits/The hideous stilton / It's cold enough out/The troublesome weather // The flight from Toronto/It flies in an hour / Except for the beer/I've got an account
curse you, botherer... okay, I'll try line four
[Jux] Ha! that happened to me last time - Raak beat me to Line 4 by about 10 minutes. So I copped Line 5. Deep joy :-)
Waiter! The bill, if you please
As soon as we've finished our cheese
Our taxi awaits
So no further debates / In the United States

Waiter! The bill, if you please
As soon as we've finished our cheese
The hideous stilton
You serve at the Hilton / Could cause one to wilt on

Waiter! The bill, if you please
And we're moving inside 'fore we freeze
It's cold enough out
That my pitcher of stout / To destroy without doubt

Waiter! The bill, if you please
And we're moving inside 'fore we freeze
The troublesome weather
Has froze us together / Has ruined the leather

Excuse me, can we get the check
Or I'll miss my flight to Quebec
The flight from Toronto
Is taking off pronto / Will quickly be gone so

Excuse me, can we get the check
Or I'll miss my flight to Quebec
It flies in an hour
By platypus power / So bring it right now or

Excuse me, can we get the check
Don't worry, it's all on Cal Tech
Except for the beer
Charge that to Rich Gere / And these hazelnuts here

Excuse me, can we get the check
Don't worry, it's all on Cal Tech
I've got an account
Of a stunning amount / Thanks to Ms. Lisa Blount
[Jux] Bravo!
*hankers for a plain vanilla limerick*
pen] me too! If I read Irouleguy's comment in Banter correctly, the last installment will be appearing in the Bifurcation Game - so-o-o-o ...

Chalky - It's plain that for easy digestion

Five lines is the best, there's no question
If you squeeze any more
It becomes quite a bore
, to say nothing of mental congestion. Couldn't 'aandle that last lot. This is more like it.
True Lim'ricks will follow these rules: (...well, not at this site anyway ;-)
Good metre and rhyme are their tools
The scansion shall flow
The humour be low
The poets must always be fools.
Low humour is more of an art
An vulgarity sets one apart
*and, rather than an
So don't trust to luck
The use of cheap muck
Is ideal to make up your part
We'll greet the new day with a smile
And then enjoy breakfast in style
Croissants and coffee
Bats coated in toffee
And virgins we'll get to defile.
My cat has got stuck in the hoover
listening to the Bolan Groover
Now they jam in duette
Singing Alanis Morrissette
And Doug Sahm's She's about a mover
Whilst buying some bread at the shops
I also bought barley and hops
You may say that's small beer
But never you fear!
My pot still makes potcheen that's the tops!
Testing, one two and three
Why's this microphone wired to me?
'cos nothing I say
will enliven your day
More than watching daytime TV.
Turn left then go right at the gate
Twenty paces, then remove some slate
In the hole that you'll find
Is some bacon rind
Bring it here, put it straight on my plate. yum yum
My instincts, though somewhat subdued
Involve the consumption of food
My nibbling nature
Destroyed every plate yer
Put in front of me - ain't I rude?
My birthday's just one day away
I'll be ninety-three, so my kids say
But deep down I know
All the wild oats I sow
Is what has turned my hair grey.
I'm going to buy a new house
One which comes with a resident mouse Sorry, rab.
who will nibble my cheese
And give the kids fleas
And teach them to speak fluent Scouse KC - welcome back!
I'm going to buy a new love
Who'll hopefully fit like a glove
we'll skip 'mongst the daisies
Like a couple of crazies
Whilst vultures circle above
I once had a thoroughbred buzzard
well jolly good for you - didn't know they existed
All the vultures and kites thought he wuz 'ard
He married a thrush
Though had a mad crush
Chalky] I can as long as my poetic licence is in date.
On a peregrine falcon from Luzzard.
I once had a Falcon called Ken
Who drank all the scotch in my den
His resulting bad head
Imploded then bled
All over my carpet - bloody alcoholic falcons, ruined it is. RUINED, I tell you.
sorry, couldn't resist.
There once was a chap from Khartoum
Who scootered a way to his doom
Up the old Khyber Pass
Keeping Off The Grass
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