It was early morning in San Francisco with heavy fog
And the ground was noisy with frogs
Sexy Annabelle had quite a tale to tell
This is messed up as far as meter. If no one minds I’ve cleaned it up somewhat:
Early morning in San Fran with heavy fog,
And the ground was noisy with courting frogs
Sexy Annabelle had a tale to tell,
She was Balled as the Belle,
***I hate to the be the one who says it guys, but we’ve strayed from writing Limericks here.
It would appear that we’re now being drawn into writing quintains (of a form which I’m not sure has a recognized name) - but they certainly are not limericks.
I find it very difficult to participate, without compounding the error.
The essence of a limerick is rhythm and word economy and the accepted convention is -
Lines one, two and five have a matching pattern of (only) seven to ten ‘beats’, and
Lines three and four also match, but only have five to seven. (Usually six).
And, importantly, it must have rhythm when it’s read.
The only time this varies is for humor and/or special effect. For example -***
*There was a young man of Japan
Whose limericks never would scan.
When asked why this was,
He replied "It's because
I always try to fit as many syllables into the last line as ever I possibly can".*
I do enjoy looking in here and hope that we can get this back on track.
Don’t hold your breath.
OK, Take II.
A San Fran morning with heavy fog,
the ground was noisy with courting frogs,
Annabelle’s raunchy tale to tell,
was when she was Balled as the Belle,
OK, Go!
A San Fran morning with heavy fog,
the ground was noisy with courting frogs,
Annabelle’s raunchy tale to tell,
was when she was Balled as the Belle,
overcome by the men and their grog.
There was this sad lad in Laredo
(ps–some natives of SF might not like San Fran…)
There was this sad lad in Laredo
Who sculpted a pussy from Play-Doh
There was this sad lad in Laredo,
Who sculpted a pussy from Play-Doh.
When he came to thatch it,
There was this sad lad in Laredo,
Who sculpted a pussy from Play-Doh.
When he came to thatch it,
He just couldn’t “snatch” it,
There was this sad lad in Laredo,
Who sculpted a pussy from Play-Doh.
When he came to thatch it,
He just couldn’t “snatch” it,
So it stayed Escent’lly Bare, like Shiseido.
A certain young damsel from Bristol,
A certain young damsel from Bristol,
Who was playing around with a pistol
A certain young damsel from Bristol,
Who was playing around with a pistol
Told friends, “It’s not loaded.”
A certain young damsel from Bristol,
Who was playing around with a pistol
Told friends, “It’s not loaded.”
Then the damn thing exploded
A certain young damsel from Bristol,
Who was playing around with a pistol
Told friends, “It’s not loaded.”
Then the damn thing exploded,
And in no time she’d turned liquid crystal.
He stood at the gate with his pitchfork,
He stood at the gate with his pitchfork,
He stood so ready to pop his cork.
He stood at the gate with his pitchfork,
He stood so ready to pop his cork.
But he soon chickened out
He stood at the gate with his pitchfork,
He stood so ready to pop his cork.
But he soon chickened out
with his hand on his trout
He stood at the gate with his pitchfork,
He stood so ready to pop his cork.
But he soon chickened out
with his hand on his trout
which hung thin like the neck of a stork.
She was a comely lass from Belfast