<sigh> I wish I could claim that the following is original, but it ain't. It's the dirty limerick to end all dirty limericks and has been going the rounds for quite a while.
There was a lovely young miss
Who went down to the river to swim.
Two boys in a punt
Stuck an oar in her eye
And now she has to wear glasses.
Yep - that could just about be the end of the limerick as we know it Merry!
ok.... dander up....thinking....thinking...
"To dig this stuff, I lack the knack
Ít sends me...but...
I don't come back"
jjorge's modesty befits him
like a hand befits a glove.
I'll bet that when the spirit hits him
we'll hear verse of hate and/or love.
Jjorge! Please don't turn your back,
We would all delight to tease you!
Though you speak of wanting knack -
Such a knack's soon learned, assure you!
See - our verse has eager feet
Toddling after you to hold you!
Hoping you'll turn back to greet
Little arms that seek to fold you.
Merry speaks of hand in glove,
Says this modesty becomes you -
But I declare 'twould be self-love
Thus to stint us of your virtue!
Stop the moon and stay the stars!
Bind the clocks with cotton thread,
Freeze each sign of time that mars
The night and points my way to bed.
Gum of owl the hooting beak!
Dry the falling of the dew,
Mute of bat the hunting squeak,
And cease the tide from turning, too.
Choke the cockerel that crows!
Still the stir of dairy herds,
Douse the sun that dimly glows,
And glue the eyes of morning's birds.
Come, soft night, your curtains draw!
Let me in your shadows lurk,
With the dawn I'm free no more,
But glumly stumble back to work.
This is the last time I'm warning you, Deb. You keep writing GOOD poetry, you're off this forum! (Even if it IS your thread.)
More doggerel dammit! We need more doggerel here!
C'mon folks! Who's gonna let the doggerels out?
hmmmmmmmmmmmm?
Dlowan's showing good decorum
In the way she runs this forum.
But her poetry sublime
Keeps us hackers off the line.
Can't compete with dlowan's verse
'Cuz my rhyming's too perverse.
"Doggrel schmoggrel," said he, frowning.
This thread's meant for rhymey clowning.
Insults, jibes and gentle poking
Are the fundaments of joking,
And we'll laugh like fools, I bet.
(Is it Wilso's birthday yet??)
Ah! Who can fool the Baltic Seer?
He knows I lack the knack to NOT come back.
He knows, at last the spirit will appear,
and soon or late -this duck will need to quack.
I type out my doggeral in Windows,
I type out my versified tales,
I type out my doggeral in windows,
I do hope my doggeral sails.
I don't want a cuplet or a sonnet,
I don't want a lyric to sing,
I just want to keep on writing doggeral
-my doggeral bag, That's my thang.
Yes, it gave me pause also.
It's bad enough to be elevated from the role of court jester to the exalted position of Balic Seer, thus confering upon one such responsibility as one is by no means ready (or able) to assume. On top of that, we have a waterfowl metaphor here which cuts to the quack...er...quick.
Where will all this end? Will my karma have to run over your dogma?
I guess if the dogma keeps chasing the karma,
The dogma may soon find it's pushing up Dharma!
Canine-ish doggerel posts
are emanating from all the coasts
my friend, now, beware
poetry can ensnare
and conjure all manner of ghosts
My banners unfurled and my lance at the ready,
I come to seek aid for a fair Aussie maid.
I just got an e-mail
From this self-same female,
Consisting of quite a tirade.
It seems that her tale-writing thread
Soon threatens to keel over dead
For lack of assistance
And a seeming resistance
From ladies who dread to be read.
So, come all you lasses
From the downtrodden masses,
Help dlowan out with this work.
She can't do it solo,
So don't be a bolo!
([Signed], Andrew the Dork.)
...or Andrew the Jerk, if you will.
Dork doesn't rhyme with work, does it?
Well, maybe here it does.
