IMHO— this is tops for overall silliness…
At breakfast one day in Calcutta
Was a man with a bit of a stutta
He said, “Pass the h-ham
And the j-j-j-jam
And the b-b-b-b-b-b-butta.”
“There’s a train at four-four,” I said to Miss Jenny,
“Four tickets I’ll take, have you any?”
“Not four for four-four,” replied Miss Jenny,
“For four for four-four is too many.”
We sing this as a warm-up in my school choir, with some slight variation.
“There once was a man from Calcutta,
Who had the most terrible <clap> stutter.
And he said, p-p-p-p-please pass
The ch-ch ch-ch-ch-cheese
And the b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-BUU-b-b-b-b-b-b-b, <clap><clap> BUTTER!”
My favorite:
There once was a young man from Poole
Who discovered a red ring about his tool
He went to the clinic
Where the doctor, a cynic,
Said, “It’s only lipstick, you fool.”
Sir
It must be included …
There once was a man from Nantucket,
Whose cock was so long, he could suck it,
He said, with a grin,
As he wiped off his chin,
“If my ear were a cunt, I could fuck it.”
Jack:
Thank you!!! Now I finally know what it is!
Well then, my mission in life is complete.
A very sad poet was Jenny.
Her limericks weren’t worth a penny.
In technique they were sound,
Yet somehow she found
Whenever she tried to write any
She always wrote one line too many.
OK. It’s not really a limerick, but it’s my favorite.
The definition of a limerick (which I first read in one of David Gerrold’s War Against the Chtorr novels) is a favorite:
A limerick of classic proportion
Has rhyme, meter, and a portion
Of humor quite lewd
And a frightfully crude
Impossible sexual contortion.
There was a young man of Madras
Whose balls were constructed of brass.
When jangled together
They played “Stormy Weather,”
And lightening shot out of his ass.
An ornery patient named Crass,
refused to take needles or gas,
the reason, he said,
is that gas hurts my head…
and shots are a pain in the neck!
A frustrated fellow named Stan,
Whose limericks weren’t according to plan.
If you ask him “What’s wrong?”
He’ll say “They’re too long,
because I always try to cram as many words into the last line as I possibly can.”
First let me explain that I’m cursed.
I’m a poet whose time gets reversed.
Reversed gets time
Whose poet a I’m.
Cursed I’m that explain me let first.
There once was a lady called Jill
Who ate an explosive pill
They found her vagina
In North Carolina
And one of her tits in Brazil
There once was a man from Nantucket
Who kept all his cash in a bucket.
His daughter, named Nan,
Ran off with a man,
And as for the bucket, they took it.
(I’m so square.)
there was an old man from darjeeling
on a train ride from london to ealing
the sign on the door
said don’t spit on the floor
so he carefully spat on the ceiling
there was an old man from darjeeling
on a train ride from london to ealing
the sign on the door
said don’t spit on the floor
so he carefully spat on the ceiling
DAMN!!! sorry about the double posting…i don’t know how i managed to pull that off…sorry!
The bustard’s an exquisite fowl
With plenty of reason to howl.
He escapes what would be
Illegitimacy
By grace of a fortunate vowel.
Jack Batty: I second FireUnderpantsBoob’s thanks for contributing to our education. I have heard only the first line of that one for SO long…
nikjohns: Oddly enough, I’ve never come across that particular word being rhymed with the name of my native state before. They’ll have to keep that one in mind if they decide to update the state song.
There once was a fellow from Yuma,
Who told an elephant joke to a puma,
Now his skeleton lies
Under hot desert skies
For the puma had no sense of hu-ma!
Since you’re dusting off the oldies –
The randy old Bishop of Birmingham
Would bugger young boys whilst confirming 'em
He’d whip out his rod
As they knelt before God
And pump his episcopal sperm in 'em.