There was a young lady from Kew
Who filled her vagina with glue.
She said with a grin,
"If they pay to get in,
They'll pay to get out of it too."
An elderly pervert in Nice
Who was long past wanting a piece
Would jack-off his hogs,
His cows and his dogs,
Till his parrot called in the police.
A preposterous King of Siam
Said, "For women I don't care a damn.
But a fat-bottomed boy
Is my pride and joy--
They call me a bugger: I am!"
An explorer returned from Australia,
Reported lost paraphernalia:
A Zeiss microscope
And his personal hope,
Which had vanished with his genitalia.
There was a young man from Lynn
Whose cock was the size of a pin.
Said his girl with a laugh
As she fondled his staff,
"This won't be much of a sin."
A socialite out on Nantucket.
Had a twat that was wide as a bucket.
She proclaimed, "If it's clean
I will take it between--
If it's rotten I'd far better suck it."
There was a young fellow named Taylor
Who seduced a respectable sailor.
When they put him in jail
He worked out the bail
By sucking the cock of the jailer.
No one can tell about Myrtle
Whether she's sterile or fertile.
If anyone tries
To tickle her thighs
She closes them tight like a turtle.
There was a young lady in Reno
Who lost all her dough playing keeno.
But she lay on her back
And opened her crack,
And now she owns the casino.
Well, okay then. Actually I left out the really dirty ones, with the necrophilia and incest and rape, along with quite a lot of silly ones that stretch the form to its breaking point and were probably written by nineteenth-century vicars. The language is often quaint; it's an older book, and very British. There are probably more contemporary ones that soldiers would know. If anyone knows limericks now. Do they? Or is it all dirty jokes and cadences? And cadences may not even be all that dirty these days.
You know, I wish I could get back into the writing groove. Because if my only alternatives continue to be juvenile humor, FreeCell, and the SciFi channel I'm going to lose it.
