Margaret Kollmer

Rookie - 9 Points (South Africa)

Limericks Of South African Towns And Place Names - Poem by Margaret Kollmer

To start with:

A limerick writer's a fighter
His rhymes must be tauter and tighter
His overworked muse
Cannot be obtuse
Or he'll end up a trite lighter writer.

An innovative Chef called Karola
Invented a drink Qoque-a-Qola
With calls from afar
It was sealed in a jar
And delivered to ZONDI and ZOLA.

Young Vusi whose Baba was Themba
Said: Baba, let me be a memba
Of the Club where you go
Where uMama say: No
Cos the 'fast' gels are in ZWELETEMBA.

You want to be very good farm-a?
Then with mali you cross-a my palm-a
An' I tell you for sure
Your marog will grow pure
For you, only you, in XIPAME.

When asked who she was young Lindiwe
Said: I come from a place called XIMHUNGWE.
But because I'm as thin
As a stainless steel pin
They asked if I'm really that hungwe!

The Swallows came in from MOROKA
To prepare their home ground for the socka
But when Kaizers, by name
Had finished the game
'Twas not socka but knock-a da block-a!

I can't click the X in XIKUNDU
Cried Liza: Mama, it's too soon to
It's too hard to learn;
It isn't my turn!
So take me, please, back to the bundu.

To the Northern Transvaal came Diablo
Who fancied a town called XIGALO
He gave a loud snort
It was not what he thought -
No place there for him, a gigolo.

The buildings in lovely XIHOKO
Are genuine Sotho rococo
But just down the road
Lives a great noisy toad
Who sings 'neath the giant portico.

Linia and Zinia were terribille
Most times being quite incorrigibille
But when it boils down
As to who'll 'do him down'
Not Linia but, always, ZINIAVILLE

The buildings in lovely XIHOKO
Are genuine Sotho rococo.
By oh how ironic
The columns are Doric
Which makes all that art 'Doricoco.'

When Roberto went down to ZINGWINI
He asked for a plate of linguini
Said the Chef: Man, I tell ya
You're not in Italia
You're in Zing where it's quite in-betwini.

'Tis 'toughies' time down in QUDENI
They have that poor guy called Houdini
They laugh ha-dee-ho
And won't let him go
Until he can say Click-udeni.

A rakish young dandy called Loring
Bought skinny tight pants in Leeudoring
So happy was he
He sang in High C
Then fell to the floor weakly snoring.

There once was a boxer called Knoetze
Who boxed in the ring on his foetze
His muscles were great
You could see what he ate
Sure helped to increase his outputze.

There was a young man from de Aar
Who ate candy floss in de baar
The Barman said Nowt!
You’re too young, you get out
And gobble your floss in de caar.

An overweight chick from Benoni
Adored pumpkin pie with poloni
When she finished a meal
She’d let out a squeal
Dat’s food for da gods, no baloni.

In NELSPRUIT a long-legged showghoul
Met and married a millionaire moghoul
But he had a mother
Who nagged like no other
A-bingle, a-bangle, a-stranghoul!

Hooray, cried a Mum of CATHCART
You can’t tell my twin boys apart.
Except when their Dad
Feeds them something real bad
Then their thanks are pure state of the art.

A silly nerdette down from TWEEDIE
To hubby said, Wow but I’m needie.
Said he, in the buff
You get more than enough
For you’re not only greedie you’re seedie!

Said Mum to her laddie in WEENEN
My son, where on earth have you beenen?
I’ve beenen to seenen
The Cardinal Heenan
Cos I’ve been quite a lad with the seamen.

There was a young man called Margolis
Who hailed from a town PHILIPOLIS
He said I’m a sucker
For bell, book and tucker
And ladies like Cheryl Carolus.

There was a young lad from HOBOKEN
Whose heart was quite literally broken,
Said his lady Delilah
Now why doncha smilah
I’m here and you’re really mistoken.

There was a CACHET VIP
Who took Goldie Hawn home for tea.
He let out a whoop
When she feel in his soup:
You're a girl in a bouillon, cherie!

In FRANSCHOEK a lady de Lille
Was recently put on de pille
'Tis said without vex
That a man Mister X
Foots de bille for de pille for de Lille.

A mawkish old gal from DINWIDDIE
Had neighbours who called her a biddie.
They said that her nose
Could supplant a red rose
To which she replied: What a piddie.

A rye-sodden chap from DUDUZA
Was known as a really top buza
If you told him to stop
He would give you a klop
Which made people say: What's the uza?

Toilets in the veldt stinky-stinky
Row upon row....kinky-kinky
Where behind every door
Live the legends of yore
Who go by the name Pinky-Pinky.

Said a seer to our Santa: ‘It’s very clear
You’ve gone and got tiddly in Farrarmere.’
‘I dirrent, ’ said Santa
‘I only drunk Fanta
Or maybe …..I only jus’ harrabeer.’

In a tavern at dusk near Witkoppen
Are the dudes hanging out with their poppen
But oh how they droop
As they sit sipping soup
Which is probably well-laced with doppen

You can hear it from Springs to Thokoza
And, yes, it’s our great Shoshaloza
Once an old mining song
Now our best sing-along
And you’ll find it @ something dot coza.

Her friends, looking on, wondered wherethu
As she Googled where many don’t darethu.
Then with boredom they said
We wish her mouse dead
But if she really must Gugul.....lethu.

A towering young mother, Theresa
Leaned over to live in Tembisa
She was good but not holy
And a tad roly poly
But still quite a cute little Pisa.

In the newly-named Ekurhuleni
Lived a lady with a great many meni
She had to you see
Cos her big familee
Cost her much more than many a peni.

A school known as Ngfungfunyani
Is so hard to pronounce it’s not ngfani
Ngf….… I give up
I’ll need a tin cup
Cos I’d much rather sing for my ngmani.

Unlike the great River Pluit
Is terribly dry
‘neath our African sky
And seldom, if ever, in spuit.

If you were a dude in Sebenza
And not just an ordinary menza
You’d wear leather shoes
Take an afternoon snooze
Then go for a spin in your Benza.

There is a young man from Dube
Whose name, as we know, is Ncube
But to leave out the click
Makes him mad as a tick
Well I would be too, wouldn’t ube?

There was a young man from Credi
Who took many ladies to bedi
But his trouble and strife
With her bobbitting knife
Sure made him the last of the Jedi.

Are the streets lined with gold in eGoli?
Betcha dollar they ain’t, holi-moli
The poor are still with us
We must make a fuss
To try and establish e-doli.

Blue-eyed and pale was our Anna
From lah-di-dah Morningside Manor
Got her face all beetrooty
At a parlour of beauty
And emerged as a spa mangled banner.

He met her in quaint Quellerina
And then she got ill – scarlatina
So rosy and red
But no good in bed
He chucked ‘er but first – quarantina.

A mawkish old gal from Dinwiddie
Had neighbours who called her a biddie
But one day he freak’d
They said that her nose
Could supplant a red rose
To which she replied: What a piddie.

A voice-cracking lad from Lanseria
Croaked out in ribald hysteria:
‘As the new grass has riz
That’s just how I iz
An’ I’m all mithered up in mysteria.’

We’re off to lovely Fontainbleau*
Where haughty horsemen geau
But eau what fun
When a fall on the bum
Restores the status queau.

A family well-known are the Dooleys
Who take all their pets to their hooleys
They go to the Shows
Where the best doggie goes
To be seen every year at Gilooly’s

If beer be a-brewin’ in breweries
An’ yews be a-growin’ in yeweries
Then could litres o’ Guinness
Restin’ sweetly withiness
Grow lions from kittens in meweries?

Said Paddy to Santa: ‘It’s very clear
You went and got tiddly in Farrarmere.’
‘Ah dirrent, ’ said Santa
‘Ah only drunk Fanta
Or maybe Ah only jus’ harrabeer.’

Said my Gran who was born in Limerick
‘If ye have to be writin’ then givitstick
But know that in Kerry
Or Gauteng so merry
Let the last line be writ by a proper …..’

The World Cup is coming, hooray
Supporters will help win the day
Cos the Makgalomelas
With their bright vuvuzelas
Will blow all opponents away.

Max the gorilla’s at rest
Our hero, once one of the best
Johannesburg Zoo
Knew just what to do
To honour his ‘Citizen’s Arrest’

The Lyceé Francaise Jules Verne
Is a place where le monde go to lerne
They say parlez-vous
And how-do-you-dous
Then back to their suburbs adjerne.

C’est ça!

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, March 30, 2008

Poem Edited: Saturday, October 11, 2008

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