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The Obligatory Limericks Game
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When the Crescenters arrive at Rab...
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An act of no Merit That's my rough little Corsa.
Like slipping a ferret
Down a gentleman's whistle-and-flute
When a bear does his job in the wood
(Proverbially, just as it should)
The mice in the grass
Start nibbling his arse
With hindsight they'd've run if they could. [a bit dull sorry - anything to get things moving again ...]
The cause of this sorry affair
So foul that I do not dare
To mention the fact
I have nada for tact
So I'll tell the whole world, I don't care
I've managed, without interference,
Ahem
I've managed, without interference,
To alter my husband's appearance
He's now eight feet tall
But has only one ball sorrysorrysorry
And that needs a sixteen-inch clearance - oooh - what a monster I've created
For those with testicular gigantism . . . there ought to be a few rhymes, and if not, well, bollocks.
(Barring the mono or double schism) Mmmm, yes, that could work, subject to the scansion police
It's wise, I suspect, throwing caution to the wind...
To join the new sect
Baptised by immersion in... (No, I can't bring myself to type it.)
It takes just a moment to find [Raak] admirable restraint, sir,
That an orange tastes better "sans rind";
But if you chew the pips
Take this wisest of tips Pompous, moi?
- just don't take the pith: 'tis unkind.
A river of buttons doth flow
To a land where the cuffs dare not go - I smell realism here...
Lest they cover my watch (Projoy) You're mad. :-)
(An extravagant Swatch™)
Where they've all come from, I don't know
There was a young chap from Slovakia
Whose verse, beside ours, was much tackia
His scansion was iffy
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