I've made a web page of old limericks for Limerick Day, which is every May 12. I have written about 500 limericks over the past ten years but I think I shall only write them occasionally from now on. Here are a few of my most recent ones:
A poetical tippler named Tilton
Developed a fondness for Milton.
Each day, right at three,
He'd put on a CD
And have Milton with port and Blue Stilton.
When I dwelt with the Lullapaloons,
We would dance upon all the full moons
To songs that were played
On blue bongos they made
From the butt cheeks of certain baboons.
An ambitious punk-rock group called Slay
Has written a musical play;
It portays G. F. Handel
As a glue-sniffing vandal:
"Anachrony In the UK."
I once knew a man who was poor
Who used to sell dogs door to door.
If you asked, "Is this legal?"
He'd slip you a beagle,
Saying, "Gift for your wife – say no more!"
A frugal professor named Dors
Would crawl through his house on all fours.
He said, “I've had scares
While descending the stairs,
But it evens the stress on the floors.”
There was once a young lady named Bess
Who was constantly prone to digress.
When her truelove proposed,
Both his eyes were long closed
By the time she concluded with "Yes."
The Yuletide brought old Mr. Peck out
With visions of rooms he would deck out,
But with prices so high,
He dropped dead with a sigh,
Checking out with his check out at checkout.
You'll notice it's often the case
That I tend to fall flat on my face.
The cause, I suppose,
Is I follow my nose,
Which has no sense of shame or disgrace.
Two Twitters whose litter did Twit
Begot a tough Twitter who bit.
Said Mom, “What's more fit,
To Twitter the twit,
Or to Twitter the sitter who quit?”
There was once a dog docker named Dale
Who had learned his profession by mail.
"It's was simple," he said,
"I just studied in bed—
I'd no need to attend to de-tail."