Some Limericks - Poem by Margaret Kollmer
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.
Said the Raj when he went to New Delhi:
Da curry's so good in my belhi.
Do I love it not 'arf
But oh when I larf
My belhi keeps shaking like jelhi.
A cautious young ruler called Caesar
Caught cold and let forth a great snaesar
Don't worry, he said
I have a spare head
Tucked away in my nebuchadnaesar.
I tell you, St. Paddy, God-wot
An Irishman born he was not.
To be sure fair of face
He hailed from a place
Where he started off life as a Scot!
Said Mitterand: En Afrique du Sud
Ze entrees are gud but ze pud!
He called for Delors
Who cried out: Alors!
Ze chocolat-log tastes like wud.
Said Madame to her Doctor: Look hoea
Relaxing just fills me with foea.
I've tried all the trix
But I'm still in a fix
Have you nothing to stop diarrhoea?
There was a gourmet VIP
Who took Goldie Hawn home for tea.
He let out a whoop
When she fell in his soup
'You're a girl in a bouillon, cherie! '
A scarlet-robed cleric caught binging
Appealed to the Pope without whinging
His fullsome effulgence
Won a splenary indulgence
Tho' a Cardinal sin was impinging.
Umama, ngithand' Umzimkulu
The land of King Shaka the Zulu
Where the land is so green
And you never have seen
All the girls just as nice as ngingu. (I am!)
Out walkies with Spotty was Louis
When the doggie stopped dead for a pouis
When told to clean up
Louis said: He's a pup
And a pup's little pouis is phouis.
Amongst the great Names, were the Freuds
Who collectively suffered from 'roids
Said their Doc with surprise
Oh my dears with that size
I suggest you insure 'em with Lloyds.
A trimmering called Shamp was appawloo
Whilst his buffery twop was aproo.
His gool got ineckted
His gurning vottected
That trimmering Shamp was a groo!
With her Grandma, Kate sat by the Liffey
Where they washed when their bonnets got whiffey
'Tis here Kate was taught
Not to fash nor get fraught
When she learned even clean things got stiffey.
'Tis the last throes of Summer said Jilly
And I can't seem to wake Little Willy
Sure ye can said Big Ted
Just ye find me a bed
For these throses be prickin' me silly.
Pro phylactically speaking he conned 'em
Whilst in practical terms he donned 'em.
But his trouble and strife
Bought a Bobbiting knife
Which broke all the vows that had bond 'em.
The day Santa played with his yo-yo
He found that it gave him more go-go
He laughed with loud whoops
At his great loop-de-loops
And tried not to hee-hee but ho-ho.
In a Requiem Mass for Pat Foley
The Pope rolled his eyes and said Holy!
We'll pray to St Kevin
For space up in Heaven
For Foley's a mite roly-poly.
He WAS a non-galloping Major
Who could've been born a trite sajor
He lost his PM-ship
Aboard the QE-ship
Without the Queen's penny, I'll wajor.
A President with far-reaching powers
Loved jogging in sunshine and showers
Whilst still in his prime
He made sure that he'd time
To stop and to smell all the Flowers.
Said Dali: We're held in esteem
As a family... a musical team.
My Mum waxed so lyrical
Dad sang a miracle
And I was the young TAMBOreen.
Young Anne in a barn cleaning turds
Said: A-whey to the milk with the curds.
Quoth the Bard in surprise:
As the new moon doth rise
My Anne Hathaway with new wurds.
Long ago in the dark days of shivery
Was born a King thanks to midwivery
Two brains in one head
Least, that's what they said
And nowhere to hide his ambivery.
In Egypt James stared at the sphinx
In Bombay he studied the lynx
But for him education
Was hell and damnation
When he'd rather be doing the mynx.
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