, boring deep in my thighs,
have detected both ivy and holly.
When cold in the morning, it's best
To pack up one's back and head west
s/back/bag
Get right out of town
And dress up as a clown
But do not join the legion, Beau Geste.
A jelly what sits on a plate
Is the latest thing in the TATE
Its wobbly appeal
As an artistic meal
Was reduced when it passed sell-by date
This shed (first a shed, then a boat)
Needs treating with fresh creosote
This strange piece of art
is falling apart
And the artist has just got his coat...
The champion liverwurst maker
Has retired as town undertaker
The deli's now broke
And he's moved down to Stoke
For a life as a pottery maker
Whilst opening a tin of sardines
I squirted some sauce on my jeans
Then opened the tin
What the sardines were in
Then ate them with toast and beans Sounds pretty average for the lone eater just in from a long day :-(
'Twas the night before Christmas and all
Panto Dames had gone to the ball
Not one ugly sister
to ruin the vista
Cinders was left, with mice et al.
It's over, you've eaten. Go home!
Do not roam over land, sea or foam
And don't you dare linger
Or phantom flan flinger
Will splatter your cranial dome - is it me, or have limerick standards slipped lately, particularly at MCiOS ?
The winter sun shines on my screen (Phil) It's not you. Rhythm and humour in short supply - even rhyme sometimes.
Why, oh why, is this golden beam
So bright, yet so cold
And so young yet so old | [Phil] I agree. It was never brilliant (check the archives for evidence), but the art of scansion in particular seems to be crumbling lately.
(Compare some our current efforts with the Platonic limerick)
Only indoors this scene should be seen.
There once was a lim'rick so poor
Out of twenty, I'd give it a four
That lousy attempt
Was crude and unkempt
Now we're back to high standards once more.
Today it's so cold that I shiver (Projoy) There's posh. How do you do that? Point well made but the melody's crap. :-)
Drink hot rum, tho' it'll fu*k up your liver
A bobbly hat
A romp in my flat
Who can say there's no fun en hiver?
Inside of a hive you'll find bees
They can spell, and all have great knees
And what's even better,
They fill out a sweater,
So long as there's no absentees
This caffeine will give me a lift
The lead in my head it will shift
but as for my liver...
It will cry a river
What will spill when my flood gates are rift
So welcome to 2006
I shall learn every day some new tricks