Thanks, Smoky:
Though having no kids of my own
I know the woe you bemoan,
I’m the oldest of three
who’d fight mercilessly,
which caused our poor parents to groan.
And once they tried to mix a business trip with a vacation…
I remember a short trip to Maine:
for my parents, 'twas really a strain,
my Pa had a meeting
but with three kids a-bleating
it’s a wonder he didn’t go insane!
Speaking of vacations…
There was a vacationing Nun
Who intended on getting some sun
But she soon killed the rabbit
'Cause removing her habbit
Made her all inhibitions to shun
There once were some students from College
Who went on Spring Break, and acknowledged
That Vodka and Gyn
Could lead to some sin:
Hotel trashing and Cardinal Knowledge
I remember those car trips so slow
And my parents with four kids in tow.
Every year they adored
To drive the old Ford
Out to Grandma’s in Col-o-ra-do.
But for me this whole trip was just crap
To this day I can’t look at the map.
And I’ll tell you why.
For car sick was I
And I’d usually throw up in my lap.
The Bottle has three times the fun
But I have vacationed with one
And found it a test
For he always could best
Any effort of me or his mom
There once was a warm sandy beach
A vacation spot that we did reach
Relaxed, tanned and swam
Had some Mexican ham
Now the virtues of Cabo I preach
NYC is THE Party vacation
From coast to coast of our Nation
If music and food
Puts you in the mood
You just can’t resist the temptation!
Before I came there were 4 pages
of lim’rix ditties and ages
all diff’rent and lovely
in their own quite bubbly,
but since I came the poets’re in their cages.
So maybe I should take this clue
that I stink at this and that “Boo!
BOO!” cry the Cecilians
when they hear all the billions
of rhymes I should flush down the loo.
Hmmm. I’m running out of ideas, so it’s back to the traditional slightly bawdy.
A young window cleaner named Sue
Liked to work in a halter of blue.
One day a strong gust
Blew her top off her bust
And the folks inside got a great view.
There is a young maiden so fine
I’ll tell you 'bout her, you don’t mind?
She’s beautiful, smart
Owns the key to my heart,
Please welcome her here
here, please be kind!
This girl is alone in her class
I knew it before one day passed
That we would be two
The reason I knew
Is I couldn’t take my eyes of her…smile
(gotcha, didn’t I? 
)
Vacation for Bottle seems basic,
And facilitates pasttimes orgasmic,
The kids that you bred,
simply take by the head,
And rotate them left past the first click.
(Didn’t know they had an off switch, huh?)
I’d love planning my favorite vacation
of fun, food, sight-seeing, libations,
for those who would roam
and (please!) leave me at home
for weeks of rest and relaxation.
While the tourists buy cute souvenirs
and take time off from their careers
with cats, music and books
you’ll find me in some nook
catching up on seclusion arrears.
Spider’s surely not slave to her fears,
At danger she laughs and she jeers,
But she should instead,
tip-toe through this thread,
By avoiding such words as “arrears”.
Spider’s sorry to have stepped on some toes.
She has plenty herself of those,
for on each spider foot
she has eight toes to boot.
(Cyber Spiders themselves can compose.)
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Oh Spider, your rhyme was just fine,
With a story that shows grand design,
The use of “arrears”,
nearly brought me to tears,
A double entendre design?
The weekend is just labor’s bonus,
Reward for much time at the office,
To try and ensure,
that you will endure,
Make safety your number one onus,
We go on a lot of road trips, and my son and I put this one together:
An old man took a dead armadillo
from the road, to cook it on his grill-oh!
The stench of burning decay
drove his neighbors away,
Till he’d cleaned up his mess with a Brillo!
(This limerick insanity runs in families!)
Just 45 minutes remain
'til another week goes down the drain.
I don’t have a date,
so I won’t stay out late,
being single on Friday’s a pain!
Poor vix is in need of a date,
A status to which I relate,
But it gives you more time,
to post as a rhyme,
As long as you’re staying up late.
If advice comes from Southern, it’s sage
Just fill up with your rhymes a new page
And then one day, who knows
If your peotry flows
You’ll perform it for us on a stage
There once was a talented Scribe
Who with verse all his lovers could bribe
With sweet poems lured them in
Took them round for a spin
Then the limerick he’d use as a jibe
A sleepy owl swiveled his head,
hooting “Whoooo has roused me from my bed?”
From the hole in this tree
I can plainly see
the sun beaming down on my head."
A beaver battering at the bark
at the base of the beech bellowed “Hark!
If it’s sleep that you want,
don’t stay here, take a jaunt
to a quieter tree in the park.”
“Dam Beaver!” was heard from the owl
as he flappingly flew with a scowl.
“Because of their dike
I must aerially hike.
This is foul treatment of this fine fowl.”
Soon another tree the owl espied
but the poor old tree seemed terrified.
Owl said “I won’t harm
you, no cause for alarm.”
Tree said “I’n not scared; I’m petrified.”
In the rockin’ tree now the owl keeps
and from beavers he hears not a peep.
On a tree hard as stone
they’d wear teeth to the bone.
So the owl deeply, peacefully sleeps.
For eons my rhyming begat,
A style that is still a bit flat,
I hunt and I peck,
then I say, “what the heck”,
It’s Friday, I’m off ot mIRC chat!
The OP of some threads begins
asking questions of vegetarians.
“Why aren’t you like us?”
“Why all of this fuss?”
And debates start all over again.
Those carnivores, omnivores and such,
I think they doth protest too much.
If meat you like munching
and bones you like crunching
then do, and my credos, don’t touch.
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This morning I jumped out of bed*
and clicked on this addicting thread.
But I’m beginning to see
it should move to Part III
and soon we should post there instead.
(Who wants to start the next one?)
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(*damned alarm clock!)