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The Obligatory Limericks Game
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When the Crescenters arrive at Rab...
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"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.
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