Some more limericks as a result of some discussions after the last limerick post.
If you haven’t seen your favourites, it may be that they were posted in the past. Go to www.bytesdaily.blogspot.com.au and use the search function to search Limericks.
One of the following is mine, see if you can work out which . . .
A very sad poet was Jenny.
Her limericks weren't worth a penny.
In technique they were sound,
Yet somehow she found
Whenever she tried to write any
She always wrote one line too many.
This is similar to:
A frustrated fellow named Stan,
Whose limericks weren't according to plan.
If you ask him "What's wrong?"
He'll say "They're too long,
Because I always try to cram as many words into the last line as I possibly can."
There once was a man from Darfur
Whose limericks all stopped at line four.
When asked why this was,
He just said "Because."
There once was a man from the sticks,
Who loved to write limericks,
But he gave up the sport
Because he wrote them too short.
A limerick of classic proportion
Has rhyme, meter, and a portion
Of humor quite lewd
And a frightfully crude
Impossible sexual contortion.
There was an old man from Darjeeling
On a train ride from London to Ealing.
The sign on the door
Said “Don't spit on the floor”,
So he carefully spat on the ceiling.
Your editor has frequent late nights
As he thinks, researches and writes,
Remembering as I sit
That tempus fugit,
To bring you each daily Bytes.
Courtesy of my father in law, Noel:
On the chest of a barmaid at Yale
Were tattooed the prices of ale,
And on her behind
For the sake of the blind
The same information in braille.
There was a young lady from Hyde
Who ate a green apple and died.
The apple fermented
Inside the lamented,
And made cider inside her inside.
There once was a soldier named Fisk
Who said, when the fighting got brisk,
"I'm sorry to say
That I cannot stay.
I've got only one *"
(Think about it).
There once was a [person or place].
Whose [body part] was [special case].
When [event] would occur,
It would cause [him or her]
To violate [law of time/space].
These two are repeats:
From the crypt of Justin St Giles
Came a scream that resounded for miles.
Said the vicar "Goodness gracious!
Has Father Ignatius
Forgotten the Bishop has piles?"
A preoccupied vegan named Hugh
picked up the wrong sandwich to chew.
He took a big bite
before spitting, in fright,
"OMG, WTF, BBQ!"