A soldier, on leave for a time,
Wondered what he could buy for a dime
A smoke, or a sweet,
Or the ultimate treat...
A pint glass of soda and lime.
A sailor, dressed up for a party,
A sailor, dressed up for a party,
Thought his frock made him look a bit tarty
But when a Rear Admiral came by
And gave him the eye,
He decided the party could starty.
A young lady from Burnham-on-Sea
A limerick thread on a forum
Is often of doubtful decorum
The Hosts all cry *Fie!*
When a bad word they spy
But the poets just go and ignorum.
There was an Old Man on a Train
One young man’s main interest was trains
But he also had a penchant for planes
He couldn't decide
Which ones he should ride
Because he’d got porridge for brains.
If ever you're stuck for a rhyme
For chimney or orange, it’s time
To think till you’re purple
And your poor wits do hirple
And abandoning words go for mime.
Comments
A penguin, departing for France
On a ferry got ready for dance
On a ferry got ready for dance
He donned a smart tux
Winked at some ducks
On a ferry got ready for dance
He donned a smart tux
Winked at some ducks
In the hope of starting up a romance.
——-
A soldier, on leave for a time,
Wondered what he could buy for a dime
Wondered what he could buy for a dime
A smoke, or a sweet,
Or the ultimate treat...
Wondered what he could buy for a dime
A smoke, or a sweet,
Or the ultimate treat...
A pint glass of soda and lime.
A sailor, dressed up for a party,
Thought his frock made him look a bit tarty
Thought his frock made him look a bit tarty
But when a Rear Admiral came by
And gave him the eye,
He decided the party could starty.
A young lady from Burnham-on-Sea
Went out on a mad shopping spree
Went out on a mad shopping spree
She fell over her trolley
Went out on a mad shopping spree
She fell over her trolley
And such was her folly
Went out on a mad shopping spree
She fell over her trolley
And such was her folly
It gave us quite something to see
A soldier of dubious rank
Ate so much garlic each day that he stank.
Ate so much garlic each day that he stank.
His comrades in arms
Ate so much garlic each day that he stank.
His comrades in arms
Risked all manner of harms
To stay on his windward flank.
There was an Old Person whose Nose
Provoked a whole army of foes
"Begone with your schnozzle!"
Resembled an Old Garden Hose
There was an Old Person whose Nose
Resembled an Old Garden Hose
Whenever he'd sneeze
We'd all catch the breeze
It provoked a whole army of foes
There was a Young Person of Moscow
Who wouldn't let Jonathon Ross go
He finally escaped
In bedcovers draped
Whilst being shot at with a crossbow
The Dean of the Forest was mean
The Dean of the Forest was mean
He wouldn’t pay a sou
To go to the loo
The Dean of the Forest was mean
He wouldn’t pay a sou
To go to the loo
So he sprayed all the marigolds clean.
A limerick thread on a forum
Is often of doubtful decorum
Is often of doubtful decorum
The hosts, we despair,
And tear out our hair
Is often of doubtful decorum
The Hosts all cry *Fie!*
When a bad word they spy
But the poets just go and ignorum.
There was an Old Man on a Train
Who thought he was going to Spain
Is often of doubtful decorum
The hosts, we despair,
And tear out our hair
But, as BF says, let's just ignore 'em.
Who thought he was going to Spain
He saw his mistake
When they shook him awake
Who thought he was going to Spain
He saw his mistake
When they shook him awake
And he had to walk back in the rain.
Who thought he was going to Spain
He saw his mistake
When they shook him awake
And he realized he'd made it to Maine!
But he also had a penchant for planes
But he also had a penchant for planes
He couldn't decide
Which ones he should ride
But he also had a penchant for planes
He couldn't decide
Which ones he should ride
Because he’d got porridge for brains.
Could read neither Albee nor Inge
Could read neither Albee nor Inge
For avant-garde drama
Offended their grandma
Could read neither Albee nor Inge
For avant-garde drama
Offended their grandma
On whom their deposit-drawer hinged
For chimney or orange, it’s time
To think till you’re purple
And your poor wits do hirple
And abandoning words go for mime.
A Person who thought he was God
Took a tumble at an eisteddfod
Took a tumble at an eisteddfod
So the ghost of St. Dave
Took a tumble at an eisteddfod
So the ghost of St. Dave
Now lives in a cave
Shelling Welsh peas from the pod.
Were nearly as long as the street
Were nearly as long as the street
When he went to buy shoes