Although limericks often depend
On coarse content that’s bound to offend
And bad puns that are prone
To elicit a groan,
To what heights do they sometimes ascend!
From the archive
It’s the silliest syllogism
And a metrical mechanism
For amusing a bloke
By telling a joke
Or conveying a witticism.
Boat I bought had great reviews,
Couldn’t wait to take a cruise,
Launched it and – kerplunk! –
Down it went and sunk,
So beware of fake canoes.
For so long I have dreaded this day
When my muse might meander away!
Now my deadline has come
And I feel really dumb,
‘Cause I find I have nothing to say.
A perfectionist poet was picky
And found writing light verse rather tricky,
So he sought inspiration
From an apt distillation
In a perfectly punny lime rickey.
“What’s this fly doing in my soup?”
I demand with my spoon in mid-scoop.
The response I receive:
“Backstroke, I believe.”
To what depths will the wry waiter stoop!
THE LONG & SHORT OF IT
Let iambs and anapests meet,
Dactyls and trochees compete,
But give yourself time
To get to each rhyme
Or you’re bound to trip over your feet.
Did this limerick just appear?
Was this limerick always here?
Surely you know it
Betokens a poet
Like Duplantier, Nash, or Lear.
You may think that I’m pulling a prank,
But I’m trying my best to be frank:
In my search for a rhyme
I have run out of time,
So you’ll just have to fill in the ___.
Riddles and puns are my play:
Who’s on first, I sensibly say,
And I know why a duck,
But I fear that I’m stuck
When the question is, Y2K.
Last week’s limerick
An old hack who is out of his mind,
Who for decades robbed taxpayers blind
And feathered his nest
With foreign largesse:
He’s the best that the Party could find?