There was a young belle of old Natchez Who ripped all her garments to patchez When comment arose On the state of her clothes She drawled, When Ah itches, Ah scratchez.
Cried a smoker, "Alas for my plight! Wife objects to me smoking at night." But his friend said, "Tut, tut, Smoke Old English Curve Cut." ____________________________
A limerick a day's my vow The time? I'll find it somehow Though I'm quite busy The words come in a tizzy And the reader, I hope, says "Wow!" (At least sometimes.)
I nipped in the the pub for some cheer A most merry noise did I heer When asked, I was told Gaelic Storm - they're so bold And now, to me, they're quite deer.
Some call it the Air Force Museum I call it "the place you go see 'em," Young flyers and others - Like the Wright Brothers Did live by the words, "Carpe Diem."
There once was a girl named Cinderella Her steps were Stasia and Drusella She served them both gladly Though they treated her badly But she finally did get the fella.
Every year, on the second of Feb. The groundhog pops up his wee head If his shadow he sees To his burrow he flees For six weeks, he'll go back to his bed.
They gave him the prize Nobel, Their view of the world to sell, You're just one in the world, Stars & Stripes, keep it furled, To belong, just do as we tell.
A man who was steering a yacht His course through the water forgacht And he stuck in the mud With a dull, sickening thud And the captain then swore a whole lacht.
The Rs and the Ds both claim That their parties are not the same But when it comes to the debt You can safely bet That each other, they both, will blame.
Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee; And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow, Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee. No Will-o'-th-Wisp mislight thee, Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee; But on, on the way, Not making a stay, Since ghost there's none to affright thee. Let not the dark thee cumber: What though the moon does slumber? The stars of the night Will lend thee their light Like tapers clear without number. Then, Julia, let me woo thee, Thus, thus to come unto me; And when I shall meet Thy silv'ry feet My soul I'll pour into thee.
There was a young man of St. Kitts Who was very much troubled with fits The eclipse of the moon Threw him into a swoon When he tumbled and broke into fits.
There was a young lady named Mabel Who danced on the dining-room table But she blushed very red When the gentlemen said Oh! look at the legs on the table.
Here's to the lasses we've loved, my lad, Here's to the lips we've pressed, For of kisses and lasses Like liquor in glasses The last is always the best.
We once had a blasphemous parrot That swore till we just couldn't bear it When we tied up his beak He learned in one week In American Sign Language to swear it.