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The Obligatory Limericks Game
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When the Crescenters arrive at Rab...
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But my mind is muddled
Watch out! It's just ready to blow
Uhu, alas and alack
, is the glue-sniffer's version of crack (Projoy) :-) I am capable of such. I thought it was about rude enough.
It sticks things together
Be they wood, steel or leather
Why doesn't it stick to the pack?
Uhuru, alas and alek!
That momma ain't got no respec'
She got soft-boiled heggs
And dem unshaven legs
And wrinkles all over her neck
Why, George, that's the best of the year!
Took an age, but worth waiting, my dear!
The thing I most like
Is an interest rate hike
And a drop in the price of my beer
My alias, Alec O'Hara
Wears orange and ocre mascara
His glitter-gel pen
Gives a rash, now and then
But makes him look like Che Guevara
Establish your characters first
The hero's dashing, the villian's the worst
The love interest's next
With scenes of hot sex
And the heroine's bodice all burst
Now send it straight to Mills and Boon
(whose office with virgins is strewn)
Their readers adore
Affairs by the score
And sex by the light of the moon.
Prepare for a minuscule death
Don't even take a last breath
Your quietus make
as your life we Snopake
'Tis come-uppance for stalking Gwyneth
Salubrious parts of the town
Are located quite a way down
The old Royal Mile
So go there with style
With cigars, and dressed like a clown
The pedantic ethnologist screamed
For language was not as it seemed
Since Phoenician vowels
Would sound from the bowels
And consonants emerge therefrom, steamed
A disgusting limerick, to be sure
Should be full of the stench of manure
And filled up with sick
jokes about Jackson's dick
To dirty the minds of the pure
Hypnosis with strawberry jam
Can be undone with shortcake and ham
Waved before one's left eye
With a slice of Jewish rye
And really not giving a damn!
A cell that is eukaryotic
That's steeped in substances narcotic
Has a nucleotide
Thats prone to divide
To produce an antibiotic
Prions in brains of mad bovinesc
And the rancid remains of dead ovines (fifth line rhyme gauntlet laid down)
If you think this is bad
Then you must be mad
And should be held in well-kept confines
Yipsody yapsody yok
Wha-a-a-a-?
Whaaaaaat?
The mouse ran up the clock Attempting a benign recovery. Must be going soft.
The clock struck eleven
The mouse went to heaven
Yipsody yapsody yok It was the logical choice
A cursory glance would suggest
That this game has matured past its best
Or perhaps that's just us
'cos we do make a fuss
C'mon all, it's all just in jest
A limerick's no laughing matter
It's more than mundane idle chatter
It must be seriously taken
And leaves some of us shaken My apologies.
But time your illusions will shatter
To the faithful - this game invariably goes through crap phases [like now]. Luckily, it usually dusts itself down and becomes occasionally brilliant without too much prodding.
'Keep it simple' my tutor advised
Complexity's to be despised
The more succinct the better
Good metre's no fetter
To keeping your list'ner surprised
My poofreader wrote I was wong,
So I sent my first draught to Hong Kong
And lo and behold
The noodles were cold
As was ym Eggy Foo Yong
I've now installed an extractor . . . . getting into home dentistry
A turbine and nuclear reactor
But my house is still cold!
Fission's best, I was told
But forgot thermostats in to factor
A centipede learned how to dance
A fifty-leg pirouette prance
But it just cannot jive
With my big brother Clive
As fast as these forty-odd ants
Talking of centipedes, how about adding extra feet? (one per line)
The earliest type of the Irish commode
Was made from the skin of a leathery toad
My grandfather used one for racing {is that right?]
While virgins so chaste he was chasing{did he use a toad or a commode, and was he chaste?}
But had to take care or the pot overflowed.
Perhaps better as a glow centipede?
The earliest type of the Irish commode
Was made from the skin of a leathery toad
Its warts gave one's nethers a jolly good scratch
And when it wore out it was easy to patch.
When my parachute did not quite open
I plummeted down and kept hopin'
The ground would be soft
Where I stopped being aloft
And for seconds it helped me with copin' [Raak] Isn't that more of a cleripede?
[Projoy] Except a "cleripede" would be impossible, because you can't add feet to a poem with no metre, can you?
The good folk of Minsk, Belarus
Recently offered a truce (but to whom, to whom...?)
To the men of Ukraine
Who said, "What? Again?"
"No! We think this is merely a ruse"
[Darren] I was more referring to the way it used AABB rhyming structure instead of the ABCB of the glow worm. I perhaps meant "imposing feet upon the Clerihew".
'Twas Clerihew Bentley, I think,
Who caused the Belgrano to sink
As he pulled out his plug
And it started to glug
He said "It's gone down in the drink."
The Reverend Spooner, 'tis said
Beamed when his queer dean was wed
but not to Friar Tuck
Who he called "fat duck"
As he crushed their newly laid bed (matrimoni is not a sin!)
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