A Small Victory

I thought I was being quite clever,
My limerick would live on forever
But I wrote it when drunk,
You all thought that it stunk
And called it the more asshole ever

There was quite a drunkard from Dublin
Who washed down his Guiness with gin
He puked like a trooper
And sang in his stupor
And proved not to be Shane MacGowan

The was a young man from Cork
who thought he would blog at work
he searched for a name
but it was all in vain
there already was a Tuning Spork

I found me a lass most thick
and paid her to turn me a trick
but on St. Pat's
I swam in the vats
and came out with limp whiskey dick

There once was a company meeting
Whose attention proved finally fleeting
The hotel had a bar
with an Irish theme th'ar
So half the people at the meeting ran across the parking lot in the pouring rain to the bar and downed several pints of imported beer at overinflated St. Patty's day prices and then drove home wishing they could call in the next day sick but they knew they didn't dare because half their coworkers were at the bar with them and they'd just say "Oh, Andrea must have a hangover."

I can't write limericks.

(Technically I was driven home, I don't have a car; just wanted to clarify that.)

I can't write limericks.

No, but you made me giggle and that's worth something.

There once was a basketball game
With a Texas team quite tame
Set against the Wolfpack
Holy effin' frack!
Boy, we played lame!

i met a depressed irish fellow
whose bong hits had rendered him mellow
he said "aye, i feel silly
but it's given me willie
a consistency not unlike jello"

There once was a girl named Michele,
whose blog we all know quite well,
she beat her addiction
and wrote kickass fiction
while we cheered her on "Give 'em hell!"

ok, so that wasn't a great ... my limerick writing is a little rusty. Do I at least get points for sucking up? ;-)

The once was a mick in Tekrit
Who was quick with a swing of his stick
On St. Paddy's Day night
He got into a fight
And lost the use his of prick

There once was a lass named Sue,
who drank 12 shots at the zoo,
she threw poop with apes,
and did tricks for grapes,
and pleasured a male kangaroo.

When the next morn' did arrive,
and Sue felt barely alive,
instead of shame,
she decided on fame,
join her website for $9.95.

Ok, ok, trying to get serious here after a pint or three ...




There once was a boy who liked rocks
who always made love wearing socks
after dropping some acid,
his dick was so flaccid,
he couldn't get into my box.

hmmm ... nothing to do with St. Patty's Day other than the fact that I'm 1/2 Irish ... let's try again ...




There once was a lad named Pete Cohen
whose bootie I wanted to be knowin'
some Guinness we drank,
he went off with a skank,
so I told him he could "pogue mahone".

I love Dave's. Oh, and SharonO's last one.

Why is it the dick figures so much in pseudo-Irish limericks? Notice it's never boobage or cooters or even asses much. Just the dick. Weird.

While stopped at the pub for a glass
I spotted a lovely young lass
Although she was pretty
And thought me quite witty
I was put off by her bony ass.

I met a cute girl named Sununu
while at the store shopping for YooHoo
we went to a bar
ended up in her car
and she let me kadiddle her hoohoo.

Three colours: Green, Orange and White
Are all drunk and are looking to fight.
Alone they are weak
But if they stand cheek to cheek
They shall last and stand strong through the night!

-------------

It's the best a half-mick with a hangover and a penchant for peace can do this morning, I'm afraid.

Also, to paraphrase myself, (is there a more conceited phrase in the English language?), why are limericks always about the past?

For at least the fourth time tonight,
I was challenged to shut up and fight,
That’s the risk, I believe
(Also on New Years Eve)
Of going out during “Amateur Night”

A reclusive old cad named O’Flaherty
Was known for his lusty dexterity.
     He, beyond kiss-and-huggery,
     Much preferred buggery.
The seat of his unpopularity.

'Neath a rainbow searching for gold,
Spied a lass who was eyeing me bold.
Her red hair hung free,
She knelt by my knee,
My shillelagh her lips did enfold.

Seldom has the world ever seen
A river that's gone blue to green
So on St Paddy's day it's Chicago you'll come to
(Not that the water started out blue
But sure'n you'll see what I mean)

Does it suck? Yes. Does it rhyme? Yes.

Ilyka made a comment that indeed
The penis limerick planted its seed.
She complained, to be blunt,
There's been no tits or cunt.
But I'll make up lost time in the need.

An Irish lass given to fits
Played jokes for giggles and shits.
So into her friend's shirt
She placed soil and dirt
Her friend then had the filthiest tits

The Queen went to Cork by plane
Got off the runway in the rain
She slipped on the stairs
Fell on her royal derriere
A photog snapped her cooter quite plain

(Okay, they suck, but they were by request.)