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And still more limericks!

I'm delighted to say that I've mastered
The appropriate usage of "bastard":
It's a person who's bred
By a pair who weren't wed,
But were too much in love—or too plastered.


An edgy young housewife in Boise
Had a husband whose snoring was noisy
She could not face such woe
So she quit Ida-ho
Now she's back home with Mom in New Joisy


Abroad there’s a poor little lad
Whose homework excuse is quite sad:
Believe it or not,
His dog ate the lot--
Then was eaten for tea by his Dad.


There was a collector named Otto
Who bought an expensive Giotto
Which he hung on his wall
And would point out to all
Saying, “Don’t go to auctions when blotto”


A slouching young weakling named Hurley
Began to get up bright and early
To exercise hard
In his little back yard
And began to get upright and burly.


We think seventy-three virgins a must
When it comes to rewarding the Just,
But that rascal next door
Says it’s seventy-four--
What a shocking example of lust!


Said X (a Cartesian coordinate)
To Y, "Damn this graph! We're both boredinate.
Would one more dimension
Help break up the tension?
Or would we be just overawedinate?"


Our high school production of Hair
Was stopped on account of Aunt Clare.
She yelled, "Blasphemy! Blasphemy!
That's way too much ass fuh me!"
We found it was too much to bear.


Assisting a suicide’s fate
Is a practise all faiths seems to hate:
Is God, the Creator,
Some prickly Head Waiter,
Who freaks if you send back your plate?


As for sex education, it’s wondered
If our school system’s totally blundered,
For the textbooks these days
Just teach two or three ways--
And Norwegians learn more than five hundred.


Speaking anthropocentrically, I
Would prefer that we not search the sky
For quick-witted ETs,
Who’d subdue us with ease,
‘Til we know what they like in their pie.


There was a proud lady named Burr
Whose cat caused a terrible stir
It scratched at her so
For her little fur foe
Was determined to hunt her faux fur


Two earthworms met up underground
Said one, “This whole lifestyle’s unsound,
Our annelid phylum
Could use an asylum.”
Those radicals – how they expound!


In bed kids might quiver and shake
For nightmares aren’t easy to take
But grownups aren't wary
Of dreams that are scary:
It’s scarier being awake


An amorous fellow from Fife
Parked up on a hill with his wife --
A choice that proved final.
On a slope anticlinal:
Your parking brake might save your life!


A-piratin', mateys, let's go!
A-sea on the waves high and low —
A-sailin', a-lootin',
A-burnin', a-shootin' —
Then we'll all rush a-shore, land a ho.


Long the dogmatic Kant was to doze
Till the day he encountered Hume’s prose,
But that’s mere correlation
And no justification
To conclude Hume the cause that he rose.


A student, a quarrelsome sort,
Said, “Descartes’ not as great as we’re taught
He just thought that he was
And he thought that way ‘cause
He had thought that he was ‘cause he thought”


An adventurous fellow from Lawrence
Took a flight on a plane to see Florence
But the trip was a pain
For it pelted with rain
And she met him with downright abhorrence


If a lizard or worm's in a spot,
Then self-amputation's its lot.
For they're both quite autotomous,
But the great hippopotamus,
Though he rhymes,
To be honest,
Is not.


With a leg of roast lamb Mrs. Kim
Put an end to her poor husband, Jim.
When her anger abated
She was sorry she'd stated
That he’d never go out on a limb.


An esteemed fortuneteller named Lance
Would insist upon pay in advance
When the clients complained
He said, “Fate has ordained
That I never leave such things to Chance”


There once was a man of Ceylon
Who had forty jars of Dijon
When asked, “If you please,
Sir, are you Ceylonese?”
He cried, “No! I sell nothing. Be gone!”


Numbers 22: A Synopsis
Balaam cried to the Lord “Oh, Alas
No more words from You now come to pass
Have You naught to impart
Through my mind or my heart?
God replied, “No, I speak through thine ass”


Victoria, the maid, feels frustration:
She's betrothed to a handsome Croatian;
But her dress will be plain,
And she won't have a train,
Which I blame on Victoria's station.


A fellow exceedingly rash
Once asked me to dance at some bash
I said, “Brother, no way
I’m entirely un-gay
I’m just blessed with a certain panache”


A silly old writer from Limerick
Said: “There's only one rule for the limerick,
That’s ‘Silliness Rules’--
To give silliness rules
Is sillier than any limerick.”
Thus he shattered the laws of the limerick;
Then he rode his dead horse home to Limerick.


More Limericks!

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