Back to Meskhi.Net
Pentatette Seal of Approval
Back to Meskhi.Net

Limerick - a form of comic verse consisting of five anapaestic lines of which the first, second, and fifth have three metrical feet and rhyme together and the third and fourth have two metrical feet and rhyme together.
allegedly from "will you come up to Limerick?", a refrain sung between nonsense verses at a party.

from Collins English Dictionary.

lyrics in limericks

she wore a scarf around her waist
and i remember bitter taste
of her chapped lips
in fuzzy clips
i've copied, but will never paste.

she was around me and in
my soul, the soul was awfully thin,
but i was young,
her odor clung
to my hypersensitive skin.

i never tried to let her stay,
she never had to go away,
dry, yellow grass,
a pretty pass,
we get beyond, from day to day.


there once was a valorous knight.
he was a bit frightened at night.
and at day, and by day,
he was leading the way,
absolutely ready to fight.

there once was a old guy from Spain,
who used to be in chronic pain,
he filed a petition
in Euro commission,
to suspend his pain, it seems, in vain.

there once was an old vagrant Claus,
with a vagrancy in a good cause.
he was dancing a rag
with his paunchy bag,
always, with an annual pause.

there once was a lady, whose feet,
were nice and extremely neat,
although her mind
rather fell behind,
still, I have never seen her beat.

there once was a marvellous sinner,
whose venial sin was his dinner,
he wore a straw hat,
was clumsy and fat,
and worked as a soap-less dish cleaner.

there once was an old desperado,
conceivably from El Dorado.
always on his uppers,
he had for supper
invariably - avocado.

there once was a young s.o.b.
with definite answer - to be!
never heard of Shakespeare,
he preferred ginger beer,
and some bourbon whisky, maybe.

there once was an old guy-programmer,
his only tool was a big hammer,
his programs were short,
the main was “Abort”,
"while - do" was the top of his grammar.

there once was a real coy boy
who used taboo words as a ploy
"it is just my luck!"
he said, "what a suck!
these words I'll never enjoy!"

there once was a faithful spouse
whose marital right was to browse.
in the worldwide net
he made the bed,
for himself and his pretty mouse.

there once was a rather old knight,
who never had personal site.
instead of the net
he used a plaid.
sometimes i think, he was right.

there once was a guy from Norway
who lived not at home, but away.
he was off the track,
when tried to be back,
got neither back way, nor the way.

there once was a hooker from Asia,
she took her degree as a geisha.
with The Great Seal,
for the public weal,
she is on the hook in Eurasia.

there once was a fay from Bombay
who used to get, but not to pay,
real goods are so nice
'cause they are beyound price.
and especially, on the payday.

there once was a guy from Kutaisi,
with a smile rather polite but icy.
some terrible story,
could force him to worry
but his answer, as always was "i see".

there once was a guy from Borjomi
who had problems with anatomy.
looking at his big nose
one was forced to propose
to this nosey guy a nose-ectomy.

there once was a lady from Rustavi,
who used to provoke any vis-a-vis.
any innocent chat
looked like offer to bed,
with this lady, whose nickname was "Peccavi".

there once was a writer from Georgia,
who knew nothing about C. Borgia.
but I'll bet a banknote,
everything that he wrote,
looks like Borgia's great apologia.

there once was a fellow from Poti,
with an image extremely dirty,
with a habbit to wash,
daily, his mackintosh,
tail coat, and pyjamas, and dhoti.

there once was a fellow from Tbilisi
who enjoyed daily news from the BBC,
but distrusted the Reuters,
the Observer, the Pointers
the Guardian, and even an autopsy.

hey, guys from The Hague, what a pity
to live in the Tribunal city!
your right to decide
who is wrong, who is right
looks like a moral annuity!

death is but the tag of this life,
it's often, but never grows rife,
a singular thing,
will give a ring,
and finish a domestic strife.

i can't pick a general rule,
acceptable for a big fool,
size is no matter,
small one isn't better,
don't confuse a fool with a tool.

all charming political frauds,
have both, charm and money, abroad,
when money is tight,
and charm is so light,
a fraud use to speak very broad.

please let me issue an invoice
on my rather unique voice,
i never know what
i need, but i vote,
to get all for free – it’s my choice.

you must know, that if you agree
to set a young girl on your knee,
the greatest expense
will be just three pence,
and thousand pounds, the fee.

i know, i will go to town,
whenever my business is down,
but when it’s okay,
i say myself “nay”,
enough, have a drink, just to crown.

today i’ll try to sober up,
i’ll be like a naive young pup.
no vodka, no wine,
but will I be fine?
the answer is “no” – fill the cup!

when i get some Scotch double whisky
i see double, and i am frisky,
this method is good,
but my jolly mood,
unhappily is a bit risky.

in case, you are a politician
you must pay very high commission
to clear conscience,
to sincere emotions,
which leads to a bankrupt position.

when, sometimes, i am in the mood
which hardly can be understood,
i toss off a drink,
and, then get to think
that world, around me, is quite good.

a female sweet, tender and roomy
can make verses doomy and gloomy,
rather in inverse
sometimes a light verse
can make ladies gloomy and doomy.

it's nobody's business, i say,
still, at any cost, i shall pay,
not now, of course,
in my next discourse
i, maybe, shall pick out the day.

the sweet dream of old guy – Guy Fawkes,
was to fire a gunpowder box,
on November 5.
any man alive,
can do it – what a paradox!

great story: “To Have and Have Not”
neglect only the final dot.
it is going on,
and you do belong
to this story. unhappy lot.

my liver is out of order,
but my mind is out of border,
i'm slightly in wine
with current mood: fine,
my reading is W.S. Porter.

below is my story in fine:
it looks like if I make no sign.
but I am alive/
tipsy/ in a dive/
on line/ dropping this broken line.

i take my way far from a clinic,
when most of my topics are vinic.
this way - otherwise,
the sun will not rise,
it works, although looks rather cynic.

it is rather fun - i feel funny,
in spite of the weather - it's sunny.
the drug, that i need,
and have not, indeed,
is, as usual, pocket money.

if you have your own point of view
do not think, it is something new.
no doubt, your point
is out of joint,
don't worry, just go, have a few.

our life is just a little same,
look, nothing is changed, but the name,
new names will be used,
lambs will be confused,
confusion is such a great aim!

i like our Blind Trust in Vote,
it is paid by cheque or banknote.
people say, it's not fit,
i don't mind it a bit,
i believe any good anecdote.

anyway, anypath, anyroad,
never force me to turn my coat.
i shall live anyhow,
as i am doing now,
earning daily bread & daily load.

no doubt, i must have a few,
but, damn it! my wages are due.
take five lines of mine,
for five drops of wine,
and i'll drop some new lines for you.

if you like to keep an e-diary,
the best place to live is a friary.
as stated above,
no romance, no love.
to e-be or not... - is a query.

i was introduced to a bore,
with a plenty of dull things in store.
i do not know, why,
but I'll never try
to meet him again, anymore...

they told me that there is a rumour:
that my verse looks like a brain tumour,
and tumours expand,
with an unforeseen end,
this point makes me out of humour.

ancient cities with common name "Troy",
just fit to the verbal "destroy".
Heinrich Schliemann said "Nein!"
digged them out, and nine
was the total - enough to annoy.

any law you have to obey,
always looks like an orient bey.
either you are a slave,
even pompous and grave,
or you certainly will be a prey.

i feel, i get a cuckoo's nest.
i'll do my best here as a guest,
but I don't know
who runs the show.
thus all the rest i have to test.

"God be with ye" is reduced to the "Bye",
nobody dreams to catch you in the rye.
our soul is old,
our sun is cold,
and a Big Mac is our apple pie.

i do like to read a daily paper.
at the publishing day? rather later.
dear friend, never choose
to believe daily news,
in a short time they can cut a caper.

'tis no matter, how rich is a thief.
i can tell you his story in brief:
to visit your pocket,
as quick as a rocket,
is his everyday life leitmotiv.

when i have to be caught in the snow.
i don't worry, just feel rather low.
i prefer to be caught,
as a rule, in the naught,
and this credo i have to avow.

the wine, I had drunk, is a river,
the relative size is my liver.
as to my head,
it is not as bad,
as the lines, it tries to deliver.

are the human rights encroached by plague?
on this point i am still rather vague.
but if you set a task,
first of all, i'll ask
somebody, of course, from The Hague.

it seems that a great inspiration,
is escorted with some perspiration,
take a smell. anyway,
do not use any spray.
do not hamper the joy of creation.

i swallow some words, when i drink,
i alter my mind , when i think,
i write like a shot,
never placing a dot,
crazy? no, i'm just in the pink.

i’m continuously going to go,
as a result, i am rather slow.
any step is an aim,
it makes me a bit lame.
something I need, is just half a mo.

it looks strange, but i am so sorry,
when they try to send me to glory.
i am an epicure.
to be rather obscure,
and alive, is my goal. a priori.

if you like to be mad as a hatter,
try to read any WEB-forum chatter.
it's a matter of taste,
but be ready to waste,
either your time or reason - no matter.

all the persons you try to adjure
in a short time begin to abjure.
law of nature, i know,
is a natural law,
but what is the betrayal's allure?

not to sink in the Georgian Wine Ocean,
you have to drink a daily portion
for three portions per day
you will certainly pay
by a three-day long steady commotion.

even if you enlighten the nation,
do not use any long explanation.
people try to abort,
dreary things. life is short.
best result is a fast termination.

using one of my usual towels,
i am ready to use all long vowels,
using a Turkish one,
all my vowels are gone,
Turkish towels! they have no bowels.

if you live in a borough like Harrow
your fauna is a house sparrow.
to meet a crocodile
you must move to the Nile.
for this purpose just follow this arrow =>.

if you have in your lines a chiasmus
you will meet very soon your marasmus.
this essential law,
is the thing, that i know
from the great Dutch humanist Erasmus.

any citizen of ancient Smyrna
had some wine in some little taverna.
and in modern Izmir,
you can order some beer,
to imbue with it your main cisterna.

many persons, just beeing heroic,
still are looking a bit paranoic.
so to be on the beam
never follow your dream.
and be safe as a plant endozoic.

any limerick has to combine
fuzzy nonsense with definite line.
in the way it was not,
to be both cool and hot,
helping as a delicious wine.

may I tell you the story about
very strange and one-way gadabout?
looking just like a guest,
he was always the best
walking, but only in and not out.

i am full of delightful nonsense,
when i have in my pockets a nonpence.
are you wealthy and rich?
it is beyond your reach.
with no music your dance is a nondance.

there was an old Turkish effendi,
whose passion was Georgian brandy.
straight as agonic line,
he just hated dry wine,
using brandy with orient candy.

"Songs of Innocence" by William Blake,
to me it is “a piece of cake”.
but in October,
i am nastily sober,
and this poetry looks like a fake.

life is rolling, just vapid and slow,
when you keep yourself within the law.
but it turns to be rapid,
you can easily check it,
when you put the law somewhere below.

a young fellow was traininig his brain
to restrain by his will a fast train.
the train was so fast,
just ashes and dust,
still reminds of this fellow, in vain.

let me introduce you to my twins.
don’t they look alike? just two beans.
all beans, at short distance,
are distinct. for instance,
mine have nothing in common, but jeans.

a young lady, whose harmful advice,
terrorised even joysticks and mice,
used to hide her nice chin,
and enjoyed rock and din.
“with a spice - she declared, - life is nice”.

verse of Limerick is rather strange,
and sometimes it is out of range.
but in case it is out
i am sure, no doubt,
the unsuitable range must be changed.

if, sometimes, you are not well enough,
it is just a good time for a laugh.
moving down and up
never try to give up,
any game is the same: life, whist, ruff.

day by day, line to line, brick to brick.
grows in space and in time Limerick.
in this town, with rhyme
you commit even crime.
and sometimes find wrong end of the stick.

a young lady, whose beauty was duff,
still enjoyed making eyes at the staff.
when she asked: "is it nice?
tell me. i'll make it twice"
answer was "no, enough, that's the stuff".

a person of exquisite taste
is ready to cut and to paste
any health food,
in joyful mood,
it's a great way to get a small waist.
Back to Meskhi.Net
Back to Meskhi.Net