No More Edible Pope
(limerick) There was an old lady from Wales
Who was known to wear top hats and tails
While a guest of the Pope
Went in for a grope
But touched not his holiest of grails
When Peter was visiting France
He tried not to plie or prance
But odorousness there
Pervaded the air
Poor Peter had soiled his pants!
There was an old gal from Nantucket
She lived in a small wooden bucket
No one could dislodge her
So a wiley old codger
cried, "I'm snake-bit. Please could you suck it?"
There is an old tale of yore
Of a laddie who went off to war
He boinked all the allies
As well as the bad guys
And now he's a regular whore
I once met a fellow named Jeever
Who sang with his golden retreiver
They'd do a duet
To pay the new vet
That treated the doggy's sore beaver
I once met a biscuit named Scone
Who went by the alias, Cornpone
So tasty it looked
I ate it uncooked
And now I feel sad that it's gone
There was an old strumpet named Lucy
Her gossip would always be juicy
She'd diss all the johns
Ceramic or bronze
But would never converse about pussy
I once drank a beer called Foster's
You wouldn't believe what it cost us
A new dollar bill
And some big guy called Will
Proceeded to swiftly accost us
I once tried to dine on some tripe
With a lovely companion who also seemed ripe
But I choked on the salad
My face become pallid
So she whacked on my back with a pipe.
Is it true you prefer teddy bears
I've heard you collect them at fairs
They're soft and so furry
So never-in-hurry
Jump on their bones in their lairs.
Why are ants always so busy?
They scurry about in a tizzy
Yet what do they gain?
Just picknickers' disdain
Stomp! "Is 'e dead?" / "I'll say is 'e!"
| Contributors: | Francine, Nym, Kansas Sam, F, Anon., Karin, N, archaeopteryx, Dassn't Say. |
| Poem finished: | 29th July 2003. |