But digress is what some here have done
Confusing attempts to have fun
We must read the rules
So as not to be fools
Alright, I’ve said my peace, now I’m done.
“Fool” you say? No, not a chance.
But its easier now, at a glance.
New rules won’t frustrate,
Discombobulate,
Or make us look at it askance.
Discombobulate, huh? Getting smart,
Aren’t you, RotorHead? You’re taking part
In a frolic that’s sure
To entice and to lure
Many Dopers to limerick art.
Entice them? I dare say it will.
And for some of us, its quite a thrill.
Even those who just lurk
will at least give a smirk,
And be learning a valuable new skill.
A valuable piece of advice
For those who think it is nice
To invoke Batman (Bruce Wayne) –
Please, don’t be a pain,
Nor pick nits (aka eggs of lice)
The question has yet to be asked:
Would Batman, if he were tasked,
still be so strong,
versus the throng
If he were ever unmasked?
With verses of dog’rel sublime
It’s RotorHead having the time
Of his life – but the curse
Of work is adverse;
Is fun versus toil such a crime?
Well, working is sometimes a fright,
Needing money to lessen your plight.
Alas, its a curse,
But what might be the worse:
Being so broke you can’t spend the night.
Me mind be blank of rhymin’ words,
tryin’ to think, I musta broke,
the only tool I do not invoke,
in a regular state of rhyme and verse,
truly methinks it to be a curse,
to know one’s head might be DEAD
but nae really (wink wink),
it’s still abed!
“He’s dead!” “No, he’s not, he’s just resting.”
A Pythonesque gambol in jesting
I fondly recall.
But alas! I must haul
Myself back to my work, it’s suggesting.
Tragedy. Working, that is.
But if you must get down to biz,
Just think of the fun
You’ll have when its done,
And the time will go by in a whiz.
Whizened* I am, but now sick
Of “bold, underline or italic?”
But to Spider(Sanguine)
Your rhyming’s sublime
But not a five-line limerick.
(*ouch!)
Limerick is a city in Eire,
That Emerald Isle so fair.
The land’s also called Erin,
Or Hibernia, for those who are carin’
To wax poetic o’er fine colleens’ hair.
Being Irish myself, may I say
That Eire rhymes in no way
With Emerald Isles so fair
Or sweet maidens’ hair
Cos it’s bisyllabic, OK?
[sub]It was slavery to form that made it sound snippy, honest![/sub]
“Use bisyllabic,” you say?
Oh, manwithaplan – touche!
I’ve struggled to do it;
Alas! I may rue it
That ever this game I did play.
Thought you had us there, huh? This game is getting rough. 
The “bi” prefix’s uses ain’t few -0
“Biopic;” “bisexual” too.
But with “bisyllabic”
You’re creating havoc.
I can bicope. But bican biyou?
I didn’t use “preview,” you see
So ETF posted with me.
I have to say “oops”
Now I’ll round up the troops
Redeem myself lim’rickally!
This slip of my fingers I rue
For “preview’s” my friend, it is true.
So now I’m flat busted
My work can’t be trusted
As from this two-fer you’ll construe.
Hamadryad, you’re creating verse
With wisdom and wit, not perverse.
Rue not that you sent
Your reply when mine went
Just before yours – mine’s worse, it’s worse!
ACK! Busted again, I can boast
By that bete noir, board simulpost.
What’s worse, I just bet
Hamadryad’s all set
To simulpost one more riposte!
At first I was thoroughly intrigued.
But now I see I’m out of my league.
Yet looking it up I see,
That bete noire ends in an ‘e’.
And now my brain is fully fatigued.