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The Obligatory Limericks Game
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When the Crescenters arrive at Rab...
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[Kim] Have you heard Chalky speak? She's dreadfully posh, she'd get away with it.
This booklet is missing some pages
My interest it no more engages (pen) Did you mean that for me? :-)
'Cos the bits taken out
Were the ones all about [Rosie] "Beet" "delete", it's quite fine :P
The cut in our Directors' wages *blithely ignores Rosie's irony bypass*:-)
It's such a big shame that the boss
Aims never for profit, but loss
He's as stupid as sh*t
Which his arse doth em*t (Chalky) Not at all, m'dear. I wouldn't have put it up if I fought you was like higgonorant (Yes I would)
But the workers don't give a toss
If I'd known it would cause so much strife (Re: the one before last)
I would never have married my wife
Cause here rhyming is bad,
And her scansion is sad (assuming here=her)
In fact I don't know what she's on about half the time.
Salaciously creeping around
With my belly quite close to the ground
I bite on her heel
And erotic'ly kneel
Then howl like a love-seeking hound
Caressing my neck-hairs she said:
"I really wish you were dead"
"So I could shag your corpse" [rhyming challenge]
From here to Cleethorpes
(imagine inverted commas suitably arranged)
But I'll settle for Grimsby instead"
I'm counting the ways that I love
Each finger's own place in a glove
Though it's with mittens I'm smitten
Thus I've written the worst love poems in Britain when in Rome...
With my middle finger raised high above ... don't do as the other nuts do!
There once will be peace in this valley,
And soon we were counting the tally
Of those now departed time space continuum r us
As off they are carted Lucky them . . . .
to Bristol, to rot in an alley or dropped from an overhang onto a passing garbage scow
The prodigal son doth return
With a listhp and bad cathe of thun burn I don't know any more than anybody else, okay!
The fatted calf lows
Snicker-snack! So it goes
For his sound effects CD we yearn
A cat in a hat once said,
"Please get this daft thing off my head open quote alert
Or I'll crap on your chair
Cough up balls of my hair
And put mice and dead birds in your bed"
A School Bus Driver once said
"This bus driving won't keep me fed"
So he nicks all the sweeties
Contracts diabeeties
And from hypoglycaemia's'dead a grim tale for anyone thinking about stealing confectionery
I like stealing candy from kids
Except little Suzy McLids
'Cause her's is all covered
with drool, where she's hovered
And will transmit diseases like SIDS
I act as the spoke in the wheel
with lots of bananas to peel,
I'm a fruit addict, see?
No scurvy knave, me
As I prepare my vitamin meal
There once was a Lady so lewd,
That even the Essex Men booed
For when she disrobed
With her fingers she probed - I can feel a coat requirement coming on.
And outdid the goatse.cx man for good. Yes, it's a URL. No, you don't want to see it. NSA (Not Safe Anywhere).
At the times when I haven't a clue
I tend to join hands with a gnu [I'm clearly certifiable]
We smear the vast veldt
With wildebeest smelt
Then go for some females to screw (Bestial behavior amongst all those animals...)
I'm sure to enjoy Lanzarote
I've heard it's not rainy or grotty
But instead, clean and sunny
Good value for money,
Two bottles of wine for a zloty
For free you'll get crabs at the loo [sim]potty
You can boil them in lye to make glue
And should you be "loose"
Feel free to make use
Of the paper. Use one square, not two.
Each night we'll swim (nude) in the pool
Please join us ...I guarantee you'll
have fun and get wet,
Which is not all you'll get
When we swim, (nude) in the pool.
And should we decide to get dressed
The bishop will have us all blessed
Our midnight baptism
May well cause a schism
If Janet exposes her breast
Janet was always an odd sort
Aroused by the chance she'd get caught
Though her legs she keeps crossed,
She frets at the cost
Of all the rude clothing she bought
Yet Janet J's infamous bro
Don’t like when the nose he must blow
But he'll blow something else
OK, try again, But he'll blow other things
While undressing his strings
Like a flute, a trumpet, or a oboe
While scoffing a lemon curd tart
I felt a slight pain in my heart
T'was indigestion
Which did beg the question
“What did cause that loud smelly fart?”
Explain, then, how drums came to be
They sound much too noisy to me
And as for the cymbals
They're cacophonic symbols
Of storm, strife, and turbulent sea.
I wish that my friends were not feckless
And had guarded my new diamond necklace :-(
But instead they got high
On hash cakes (with rye)
And peckish, they ate it for breakfast (the jewelry, that is)
A dour dowager from Pisa
Who, frankly, was no Mona Lisa . . . . this do-WADG-er
Tried to drag me to bed
Said she needed my head ....and I'm not very bright either...
So I chopped it right off, just to please 'er
If you find yourself headless, take heed:
Do not ride on a galloping steed
With no head, you can't see
And you may hit a tree
('Though a headache pill you will not need)
My overindulgence in eggs Ain't no-one got rhythm? The penultimate one was a right clunker.
Has my tum encroaching my legs
I can't see my toes
And am forced to impose - [Rosie] For once I disagree. There was only one non-scanning line in that one (the first, "dowager" one).
Some eggnogs with Rhum, two –three kegs... have an eggnog guys and your rhyming and rhythm will get so much better ;-)
As I drank my morning coffee
My saucer slipped slightly agee last syllable in line one stressed I assume
My cup, it did tip
Fluid spilled from my lip
And it looked like I'd just had a pee - Coat
My ogee has gone all awry
So I think I'll just stand here and cry
For my arch is all wonky
'Twas built by a donkey
Who'd used the wrong value for pi
Very good!
And into the fray once again
Morniversers just have no shame
[SW] Clearly!
One can but despair
At their Devil may care
Society must be to blame!
I've had quite enough, let's secede
For then all the verse shall be freed!
Rhythm - begone! Cor, this i'n' 'arf poe'ic
Fell'as come on!
Let's just claw at our eyes, till they bleed
oops! drawing my line in the sand
When ones eyes are BLOODSHOT, and red
It's better to go back to bed
Try to stop the rotation
For your breakfast flotation
Get up tomorrow instead
A valiant hero in blue
Released a rock chick from the loo
where, perfecting her licks
She performed such tricks
As to fix steady dates with some glue ...maybe it's worth a try...?
This gallant, with plunger in hand . . . a handyman, t'is a noble vocation
Fights blocked drains throughout all the land (which does scan, at the risk of a sprained tongue)
He will hammer and screw, ....hoping his tools are in order...
While you wait for the loo
And his bill's never more than a grand.
My clarinet seems to have grown
It’s playing strange tones - yet unknown
I shouldn't have watered it . . . or taken liberties with the syllabic count :-)
Hung, drawn or quartered it (sorry, I know it's not the multiposting game, but I was passing and I thought I could help out)
Now it sounds like a trombone.
You remember when old Uncle Andy
Claimed he dated old Jessica Tandy
The thought of those two (Projoy) And I'm glad you did. Nothing wrong with posting 1st and 4th lines.
Makes me want to say "Ewwww"
For I'm appalled to find I am randy
Bach played on a cheap pennywhistle
If that don't appal you then this'll:
Herr Mozart's accordion
OK, bad rhyme... how about de Falla on ice
Playing: Three blind mice....
Or Puccini played on a bull's pizzle.
So could we try whisky instead?
This moonshine will leave us all dead
Here ! Slug on this raki
And chew on some baccy
In your pencil they will put lead
Pure Malt will be fine thank you Sir,
You see, I'm a finicky boozer
I insist on Laphroaig
S'miles better than Haig
Bong! Anyone else know the right pronunciation of "Laphroaig"?
Laphroaig (La-fróyg)
which makes it difficult to rhyme ..
I've always understood the g to be silent, as in joaig, ploaig, ahoaig, etc,
Though Bailey’s what Ladies prefer Never mind rhyming and/or chatting, Baileys is a reliable and fast first class G-spot moistener....
There once was a maid in a Bar,
[Raak] According to the head distiller, the "g" is pronounced. I saw him on telly 3 weeks ago on the wonderful "The Thirsty Traveller" on the Travel Channel.
Said "AnCnoc's the best whisky by far",
She would oft say
That a single Islay
Would get her knocked up in a car
Tonight we have an extension now, now . . . .
To our contest of "Dumbest Invention"
The next and last entry
"Hot-pants for the Gentry",
I shudder to have to now mention
My hot pants are only lukewarm
Since I bought them before you were born
What's more, they are damp
Thanks to the hot vamp
And my awful addiction to soft porn.
While playing in Grandfather's attic
Which he can't get to, 'cos he's rheumatic
I found the remains
Of some old Hornby™ trains
Like Connex South-East, they were static.
:-)
The day that I give my last croak
I'll play, on the mourners, a joke
My coffin's spring-loaded
And the eulogy's coded
To send the whole church up in smoke
Marvellous - just make sure you are ALL at my funeral :-)
There was a young chap from Cadiz (Chalky) I may not be able to make it, actuarily.
Who failed on his química quiz
Thinking Valencia de Sodio
[Rosie] If you don't go to other people's funerals, they won't come to yours.
Could be heard on the radio [SM] Good thinking, make sure you live long enough to receive deaths kiss!
He failed to impress as a quiz whizz I guess, like me, Rosie will have had a prior engagement ;-)
I'm learning to speak Mandarin
But I can't tell my chìn from my chîn
And I tend to wing wong
When I'm meant to ling fong
But I might just get by in Guilin
I just heard a ping pong ball ping
While testing my new backhand swing
The ball just went flat
(Being cheap, useless tat)
But at least it makes wonderful bling.
Her tits swung so wildly and vulgar, ( o )( o )
There was a young golfer from Troon [Marc] Shame on you.
She waggled her tail like a cougar/Whose balls were all creased like a prune
[tithead, whoever you are, and Marc] I really had hoped not to have to face that kind of stupid sexist rubbish in here. There are oodles of sites on the web where you can exercise your misogynist sense of humour, and I for one would be pleased if you'd piss off and do it somewhere other than here.
Apologies to rab and everyone else for flaming in the lims game. I'll come back in a week's time.
There was a young golfer from Troon
Who played every shot with a spoon (a No. 3 wood)
(The most runcible kind)
And though much maligned [t,M] What pen said.
From bogeys he seemed quite immune
He drove from the tee with aplomb
His drive - it went off like a bomb well played pen - hear hear on all counts
It landed pin high . . . always sounds like some Chinese bloke, that.
And he let out a sigh
Because it had slipped from his palm [pen]my line was certainly not meant to offend anyone and I’m kind of surprised by your interpretation. I guess it’s with limerick lines like with kids: We love our own.....
Yeah Mark, so that's why you have to actually DRAW tits in the limerick game? Pur-lease. For the record, I hate your 'kids'. If you want to continue this discussion elsewhere, I'm quite happy to - I'm a new justine and I use aol.com for emails.
The watchmaker's son was too late
And therefore he missed his first date[pen et al] my ‘drawing’ was supposed to resemble a man with wide opened eyes watching the Women’s final of the tennis game the other day and not a pair of tits as your imagination may have fooled you to believe. Have a nice day! [Chalky]Nice line you submitted the other day at the game Multiple Lines Per Player: “By giving her one 'gainst the wall”, but beware, pen may spot it and accuse you for being a “stupid sexist rubbish” publisher!
His hair-spring had sprung (Marc) Eyes? Bollocks! They're tits. You're in a hole - stop digging. And crawling.
The alarm had not rung
And his young lady friend wouldn't wait.
"Just whom do you think that you're kidding?"
Said seller to buyer when bidding
"This is a Titian . . . . hanging quotes
No way it's Mauritian"
.. why the long pause I wonder ..
So the deal to a quick halt came skidding. .. dodgy last line in order to move swiftly on
Chalky - I'm insuring my knees to the hilt
And my hips, though of Kevlar they're built
My ribs are of steel
(plus titanium heel)
And my false teeth- they're loaded with gilt
With 2 grams of flucloxacillin
You could wipe out all Enniskillen
All germs, bugs and cattle
You'd hear their death rattle
That's how you make a great killin'
Relaxing one day in the bath,
With a volume of Sylvia Plath
My bathing-mate's clowning
Pretending she’s drowning
What GSOH this girl hath.
I nipped into my bookies one day
And bet that Boy George wasn't gay
At eighty to one
I'd say I'd been done
But it turned out he wasn't - hooray! (in another universe.)
A funny lot, those London Loopers (It goes past my house).
Filled with tourists and some hula-hoopers
They circle the streets
They nibble their eats 1st + 4th is OK, I think.
As they stare at the guard-changing troopers
The Bishop of Bath and Wells Not everyone, it seems, knows what the London Loop is. It's a sort of M25 for walkers, and about as fast.
Never learned to control his bad smells (adding an xtra syllable for Rosie ;-)
His underarm pong
Made his churchgoing cong- (unfinished word alert)
-regation avoid waving farewells
The Bishops of Wells and of Bath
Forget that, not many rhymes for "bath".
The Bishop of Wells-next-the=Sea
Had a flock of just twenty and three
They worshipped their Bish
And sacrificed fish
Which after they ate for their tea
Archbishops, as rare as they are,
Are given free drinks at the bar
But Cardinals pay
For their fine Chardonnay
And prostrate themselves for a Budvar
An eparch, a breed rarer still,
Writes all his decrees with a quill
His face becomes stern
(But not quite a gurn)
When his inkpot requires a refill.
A lobster, a crab and an eel
Disputed who best danced a reel
They chose, as a judge,
Mister Barnaby Rudge
For whom 'twas a mighty ordeal.
Cor Blimey, I ne'er saw the like
It's three hairy men on a bike!
A trick such as that
Performed with eclat
Just bowls me right off of my trike.
We listen; we keep a straight face
As Bush pronounces "nuclear race"
But we can't hide a grin
At George's chagrin
When, mid-sentence, he loses his place
There once was a writer from Wrab
Who wrote of lives dreary and drab
These sorry commuters
On sorrier scooters
Since long they had left in a cab....
There was an old man from Nantucket
With no worldly goods but a bucket
At the bottom of which
Lay a kitten, named Titch,
People gaped at how far he could chuck it.
Do I win £5 for not finishing with "f*ck it"?
*splutters tea into her keypad*
While wand'ring around B & Q (ISP) Only if you can prove that you would not have used that asterisk.
I searched high and low for a screw
Just one, on its own
Or two-- one to loan--
But multipacks is all that they do. Bloody irritating. In the old days, one could go to the local ironmonger, but they have all gone to the wall. Grumble, moan.....
I grumble and moan and complain
That my wife is the cause of my pain
But her skill at defining
My incessant whining
Is proof that she has half a brain
Half a brain is better than none
Why just ask a zombie, my son
Why not ask Tony Blair
He's the brain of a hare
And Mad Hatter all rolled into one
“Hey you, please get up and get dressed,”
Called chef to a bare turkey breast
But the breast did not answer
The culinary chancer
Who was mad, as you may well have guessed. . . . weird . . .
"Oh Gwendolyn please get my helmet,"
I said as I painted the pelmet good luck...
And read from Wyrd Sisters
While piercing my blisters This is really stupid - someone put it out of its misery, please!
Where my heels and my shoes had just met Now moving swiftly on...
I stay in the poshest hotels
With the Bishop of Bath and of Wells
We share a hot tub [Chalky] In my defence, I invoked Wyrd Sisters only because it pointed to the only other rhyme for "helmet" I could think of (Duke Felmet).
Eat room service grub- [PJ] Not you, m'dear - it was yet another opening line in speech marks I was railing against :-)
And play Beatles songs on our handbells.
The Bishop has got a big dong
It's not nearly so wide as it's long
When he puts it on show
The sharp end does glow
And choirboys keep singing their song... Oh Gwendolyn please get my helmet, I said as we swung from the pelmet, And while we’re up here, I’ll lay you my dear, And use my baldhead if you’re unmet….
The sign in the window: "A vendre"
Which I took as a double entendre
I based my suspicions
On other omissions
Elle repose á la fenetre se détendre
There are discs; some are hard, some are floppy
There are bisques, some with lard, that are sloppy
I like to compare
The two, although they're
As diverse as a rose and a poppy
Horticultural savvy is fine
When it comes to a Wisteria vine
But it won't help you change
Your opinion on mange
Though it helps with a glass of red wine.... (Noah, one of our first Horticulturists taught us the tricks of enjoying garden life!)
Escaping conventional thoughts
Requires a dozen blue cots
One handful of brainwaves
A few music staves
And an infinite number of noughts.
'S not easy to grasp Relativity
And that is a shame, quite a pity
For the concept of time
Is bent, like this rhyme
To which I have quite a proclivity
Tonite I must polish my Harley
With a lettuce and syrup of barley
I find that the shine
On that Fat Boy of mine
Leights up the whall Rhondda Vaali.
Expenditure budgeted well
Is joyous, so I ring my bell
For fiscal propriety (Projoy) God, that's boring. :-)
Brings people satiety
By making life as boring as hell
Actuarial recalculations
Have declared that in Europe all nations run on . . .
Are living too long
And, therefore, must pong
So let's have some deodoration
(Sorry, missed off the S.)
Freight loadings are 5% up!
That's great, now I'll by a Pick-up!
But freight on the rail
Arrives on the nail
- Allows you to stay home and sup
Your lips are as shiny as honey
But don't make for me any money
So go on the game
But assume a false name
I swear I'll be proud of you, sonny.
In Canada, dollars and dimes
Are slang for the tariffs for crimes
Sow your oats and do porridge
Only eat what you forage
And gamble the proceeds betimes [SMith] That was SUCH a funny last line :-)
It's time for 'objectives' and 'plans'
Writ in Powerpoint with Comic Sans
With sliding transitions
Of your fiscal ambitions
Or you'll find yourselves driving white vans.
"The better to see you with, dear,"
"My, my! You've a wonderful rear"
"The left half is quite..."
"....neat, unlike the right"
"I’ll just take a lick, have no fear!"
"Dear Gram, why your ears are so hairy"?
"Because I'm a lycanthrope, deary."
"So I'm one as well?"
"Yes, you'll go to hell."
And that was the end (well, in theory).
A long list of things I must do
Leaves me no time to care about you
No matter that your
Foot's nailed to the floor
And you're bursting to go to the loo
A shortlist of people to see
Is something I'll write you for free
And if you've got time
You can see some of mine
And we'll all have each other to tea.
The business of catching a bat
Requires that you wear a top hat
On its rim a mesh net
And, to hand, a good vet
In case there's an unseemly splat
With a 'Yay', a 'Hurrah' and 'Yippee'
I've discovered philately G & S invoked
My stamps from Botswana
New Guinea and Ghana
Show naked boobies that swings free! [Rosie] We didn’t know you were a philatelist...
A booby who swings on a rope [Marc] Oh yes, philately will get you everywhere.
Will likely not end up as pope
But nevertheless may (Marc) I'm not. I just like tits.
Unless he's not gay? [Rosie] Remarkably so do I, my glasses get misty whenever I spot a pair of good-looking tits! (   )(   )
Jesus, Marc, can you not give it a break? It's the same 'joke' over and over again, which, if you're not already aware, makes you sound like a stupid and dirty old man. Please let me know if you're going to the pilg, for that's one I will take pains to avoid.
Become vicar of Stanford-Le-Hope. Or something. (Marc) You're obviously a tit man, or should I say "You're obviously a tit, man".
There once was a prudish old virgin [pen]that note was for Rosie only, hope he don't mind you reading it. See you at the pilg! [Rosie] Same to you, old man!
Who preached celibacy to spawn sturgeon
She took twenty years
And shed many tears
To make sure the eggs were emergin' OK- that's rid us of this nonsense ... onwards and upwards ...
There once lived a preacher called Vic
His message "Beware of Old Nick" This is more like it. Nice piece of disposal, Chalks.
He delivered his sermon - [Chalky] I feel minoritised. Us Geordies don't consider "years" and "tears" as rhyming. But then, we are daft as a brush :-)
And his parish, all German ..hmm, Multiple Lines Per Player, interesting concept....
Verschwunden im einem Augenblick I had to... anyone with a better line in english is welcome to interrupt.
I'm impressed with a) Knobbly's line, and b) babelfish's translation. Meanwhile, here's a line
While taking a sojourn in Spain
A vagabond purloined my brain
Those tacos with wine
And cod soaked in brine
Have caused me abdominal pain.
The ferry chugs over the channel
The sea is a glum shade of anil
The oil slicks are slimy
The low clouds are grimy
Can somebody please fetch a flannel?
"Bespoke", when applied to a tailor
Means 'promoted through a loud hailer'
But the phrase "off the peg"
Means that one's inside leg
Must be saved from Vlad the Impaler
The ferries of Bute and Dunoon
Have opened a route to the Moon
The journey is long
And starts in Hong Kong
(Connecting train from Kowloon).
I think, on a night so pristine,
Our thoughts should be with our dear Queen
Whose mammoth carouses (Tho' enjoyed by both Houses) Are frightfully hard to keep clean...
(Tho' enjoyed by both Houses..)
[Sticky] We like to stick to one line each in general in this game, though fair enough to you for tripping your tongue around that one.
The perils of being a monk
Are more than just living sans-bonk
Much harder by far
Than feathers and tar
Administered when one gets drunk
If ever you yearn to break free
And sail to Trincomalee
Take an old Galway hooker
Some distilled Sambuca
Weigh anchor, and head out to sea.
I swim every day in a pool
With my sweet rubber ducky - that's cool!
We play and get wet
And sometimes we pet
But mostly we dribble and drool
Summertime, and the living is easy
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