There once was a lady named Emily
Whose orgasms were merely fascsimile.
To use metaphor:
She moaned like a whore,
Though that last phrase was really a simile.
A tutor who tooted the flute,
Tried to tutor two tooters to toot.
Said the two to the tutor,
“Is it tougher to toot,
Or to tutor two tutors to toot?”
A canner exceedingly canny,
One morning remarked to his granny,
“A canner can can
Anything that he can,
But a canner can’t can a can, can he?”
There was a young man from Beruit,
Who had many warts on his root.
He put acid on these,
And now when he pees,
He must finger the thing like a flute!
There really ain’t nothing to it.
So start writing now-- just do it!
Don’t fret over rhyming
Or impeccable timing
Just be sure that the joke we’ll intuit.
This Tennesee Hippie I knew,
Asked to hear a new limerick or two
I thought I would try it
But who’ll listen to my shit?
I think maybe I’ll stick to haiku.
When a jolly young fisher named Fisher
Went fishing for fish in a fissure
The fish, with a grin,
Pulled the fisherman in
And now they’re fishing the fissure for Fisher.
My own…
There once was a man named Cecil
Who one day wrote an epistle
How some women has’em
A psychic orgasm
And others need to be nestle’d.
Haiku, indeed, can be nice:
As tasty as any fried rice.
But keep at it, Joe!
Let those limericks flow!
It’s deliciously evil, that vice.
The master of the limerick is going to the pookie.
Me? I am just a rookie.
While he is in there.
I will send him a postcard with care.
For I know he won’t be getting any Nookie.
I tried my own limerick.
What is the trick?
Its a poetical crime.
Pokie and rookie don’t rhyme.
Hell, just give me a big old kick.
It’s five in the morning.
and I have to give you this warning.
I really want to be in this thread.
But it is much too early to use my head.
So, I will just make up a word like Borning.
pat
GD and GQ can impress
IMHO’s the same, more or less
And the Pit can be good
But if minds required food
They would eat MPSIMS
Oh well, didn’t say it was going to be good
ps. Say all the letters in the acronyms individually for this one to work.
Our ship had a First Mate named Carter.
He was the worlds greatest farter.
If the wind would fail,
when we wanted to sail,
Carter the farter would start 'er!
On the Island of Palms he is stuck
'Cause he would not pay one extra buck
For the ship with a hull
To withstand any squall
Now he lives on a plam-studded rock
After two years and fotry three days
He began to roam free in a haze
He mistook a great ape
For a lady to mate
Now his anus meets straight with his gaze
Some limericks make wince in a spasm;
Others make me laugh to orgasm;
It really don’t matter,
Though I’d opt for the latter;
I just like the enthusiasm.
There once was a man from Nantucket…
A Brit secret agent named Bond
Has fans who’re of Connery fond
Pierce, Moore and Dalton
They all find some fault in
Though they all look good screwing a blonde.
(listening to the 007 soundtrack album right now; forgive me)
In California there was a young pug
Whom we powdered and sprayed to debug
The fleas laughed and bred
And tauntingly said
“We’re immune and that’s why we’re so smug!”
My God, how I will be bored
When I get locked up in that ward:
I’ll miss going places
I’ll miss female faces
But mostly I’ll miss this damned Board!
A Doper who thought himself brainy,
Tried to write 'im a limerick so zany,
But his brainy-ness bailed
And his limerick failed
And he ended up going insaney.
Some limericks make a bad pun
And although they’re all meant in fun
The humor’s so bad
It’s driving me mad
And now I want to reach for my gun.
As a beauty I’m not a great star.
There are others more handsome by far.
But my face I don’t mind it,
for I am behind it.
It’s the people in front that I jar!
A gentleman dining at Crewe
Found quite a large mouse in his stew.
Said the waiter “Don’t shout
and wave it about,
or the rest will be wanting one too!”
There was a man from Crass
Who had balls made of brass
When they clanged together
They played Stormy Weather
And lightning shot out or his ass.