14 November 2015


Here's something.  A recent foray to the Archives unearthed a trove of limericks, which carbon dating indicates, and personal memory confirms, were composed between 1992 and 1994 in Seattle.  The total number of limericks in the archive is 64; while all but a few are of reasonable quality, less than half are presented here.  The rest will return to the Archives, to await discovery by future literary historians schlepping for something, anything on which to base their thesis. 

Would you like to try some of my flotsam?
Thank you, I've already got some
Then how bout some jetsam
Thank you, I'll get some,
I'm starving, and so glad you brought some

A snappy young wit from Arkansas
Struck gold and retired to Kansas
When he sold Life a pome
On the decline of Rome
Running just over 3 million stanzas

Whenever Dale would visit Aunty Alice
He would callously fill his Aunt's chalice
With a badly made shake
That would fill Uncle Jake
With malice towards Alice's chalice

"That's stupid!" cried Heidi from Dallas
Who dreamt of designing a palace
For her and her friends
Where the fun never ends
With a turret the shape of a phallus

Let's go! cried McGraw to McGuffin
To which, replied Guffy, Quit huffin
Just hold yourself steady
We'll go when I'm ready
After I stuff in this muffin

While locked in fierce hand-to-hand combat
With a ferret disguised as a wombat
I'll have a bacon double cheeseburger
Whopper large fries
And I don't want no pickles upon that

Jetson is gunky and viscous
Rib-eye's got miniature biscuits
How does all this relate
To the price of tea in China?
My stomach is filled with a discus

While shopping for Christmas at Tiffany's
For gifts for my four favorite Stephanies
I stopped briefly to carol
In women's apparel
And experienced four hundred epiphanies

A basketball team from Wisconsin
Coached by the great Charlie Bronson
Resorted to guns
To stop a series of runs
By the Lakers of Worthy and Johnson

Stencilled on Albert in crayon
Was his motto, a poem which ran
I shall never forgive
For as long as I live
Any sucker who's glad he's a man

I cannot work out the relation
Between fig bars and lobster gestation
Some say no connection
But then why the infection
In the womb of my fig-fed crustacean

I love it when Carol goes rowing
And singing and happily sewing
A shirt for the Queen
But Carol is mean
So the shirt leaves the Queen's belly showing

The lunch that you packed me this morn
(The one with the yogurt and corn)
Has now reached a stage
(Due to heat light and age)
That can best be described as forlorn

When hooping last spring on Rainier
I found I could guard Bob Lanier
If when he had me in trouble
I got help on the double
From the weak side - my man Phil Chenier

Turner, of Turner and Sprocket
Had a turnip the size of a rocket
Which when it came time for launchy
Got rather too raunchy
And probed its way deep in his pocket

A wholesome young gallon of milk
Felt Joan was just not of his ilk
So he poured a tall glass
Of his soul and his ass
In her fleshy warm teacup of silk

Willy cannot seem to figure
Why his hairdresser's hair just gets bigger
He thinks it's related
To the large men he's dated
(He doesn't suspect Darren's vigor)

It is hereby decreed that you must
When you feel your heart filling with lust
Declare what you're feeling
To before whom you're kneeling
Or else your brain-mind will bust

"I cannot abide your withdrawal!"
Screamed Sergeant Frank "Big Lips" McPowell
When he heard that his troops
Had refused to scoop poops
"Fuckers," he growled with a scowl

Uh, Dave, we do like your new Taurus
But now you're beginning to bore us
Can we discuss something other
Than your car, like your mother
How is the old brontosaurus?

He hacked at the curveball from Dean
And fouled it straight back to the screen
If I'm to hit Dizzy
He thought in a tizzy
I'll have to show quite a strong spleen

So I picked up the phone in my Jetta
And dialed up Leon Panetta
Leon, by chance
Did you know Vivian Vance?
I sure did, we performed the mo' betta

"To begin with - that is, to start off ...
Er ... em ... I mean" - [Hacking cough!]
"I can't seem to get started"
Then HONK then he farted
"The topic today will be - " WOFF

Some of these are actually a little disturbing.  These are collected at the end so as to be easily avoided by more sensitive readers.

"Help me!" cried Lance from his grave
But every cry that he gave
Left him worse off than ever
And he knew that he'd never
Escape from his permanent cave

The bones in the flesh of the cook
Got splintered and mixed with the soup
But no one could tell
Except for its smell
And his damaged and horrified look

The extensive array of raw bruises
And the various cuts and contusions
On the head of young Bruce
Point to abuse
By his tyrannical stepdad who boozes

Ian, a raw Irish bloke
Snorted some rope with his coke
Which made him go mad
Like no drug ere had
And strangle himself as a joke

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