ODEILF: Omnificent English Dictionary in Limerick Form:
http://www.oedilf.com/db/Lim.php?
I know that there are some in this pub that absolutely love Limericks, you can join the project even.
You can browse by author, by topic and by words, they’re doing the A’s first.
Spent to much time here already today
MarkB
"Limerick #T40354 Bacchus
By Matt Schweizer
Submitted: 13 May 2005
Defines: Bacchus
Status: tentative
Hail Bacchus, the great god of wine—
Celebrations debauched and divine.
Forever I’ll wallow
In wine that I swallow;
My gullet each night is a shrine."
What an idea! I wish I could write limericks. But I can’t.
There once was a Maiden from Chichester,
Whose curves made the Saints in their niches stir.
One morning at Matins,
The heave of her Satins,
Made the Archbishop of Chichesters britches stir.
Slan,
D.
PS. I heard that years ago,it’s not original.
D.
A Paddy from Dublin was prodigal
But his memory was truly prodigial
A limerick he related
But modestly stated:
“I heard that years ago, it’s not original.”
MarkB
Cautionary limerick:
Should someone aspire to the bodhran
And avoid being labeled a moron,
Know that simple and steady
Trumps flashy and heady
Especially when backing an amhran.
He perspired when playing the bodhran
Playing all night in the ashram
Until one moron singing an solo amhran
Took his bodhran and ramashed it.
MarkB
A whistle I made on my own,
Out of extra-thick dinosaur bone,
was a screecher no doubt,
so they soon threw me out,
To play “Planxty Jurassic” alone.
At Cranberry’s new Irish Pub,
They serve salt-licks and all vegan grub.
There are sessions and gigs,
full of rats, dogs and pigs,
playing whistles chewed down to a nub.
A young pup out of nowhere cried, “Whee!”
“A metronome will undoubtedly help me.”
He was takin’ great pride
In his jig and his slide
Till the old dawgs:“You got no swing, tee hee hee!”
A charming new whistler named Cynth
said: “All there is to it is counting syllables;
The rhymes, I’ll admit
Are harder to do…
Oh, bloody hell, just pass the absynth.”
There once was a whistler named Bloomfield
Whose image could never be revealed.
“That’s Gunther,” he said,
“Who came in my stead.”
And thus Bloomie’s visage was concealed.
While our Bloomenfeld gladly critiques,
Cynth’s verses with nudges or tweaks,
Bloomie lacks the panache
Of a true Ogden Nash,
So I’m not certain wherefore he speaks!
Hey, don’t worry, I’m keepin’ my day job.
Bloomfield and emmline in rhyme
Do battle from time to time:
“O. Nash you are not!”
“Dear, don’t get hot,
Bring me another, shaken with lime.”
I haven’t got stomach for this:
There’s brides fleeing 'fore conjugal bliss!
Michael Jackson is free!
(Don’t you watch your TV?)
And now Chiffsters fight, rhyming toward crisis!
But Bloomie, that’s not fair at all,
For to take me alone, you would fall.
I can best twenty foes
If I type with my toes,
So let’s make it a C&F BRAWL!
(Oh yes, and as for your lime
I’d be glad to, but haven’t the time.
But if you would be sweet
I’d like something to eat,
Chocolate cake would be more than sublime!)
When Bloom and Emm have a brawl,
No prisoners are taken at all.
She leads with her right,
his brain is his Might
and we are agog one and all.
Slan,
D.
Never I’ll take up the glove
Of war, but rather preach love:
Dear Em, an embrace!
(But don’t turn your face:
I won’t scruple to give you a shove.)
Whistle limericks: