VARIOUS LIMERICKS Collected by Alan Silverstein, ajs@frii.com Last update: October 19, 2016 There was a young poet named Dan, Whose poetry never would scan. When told this was so, He said, "Yes, I know. It's because I try to put every single syllable into the last line that I possibly, possibly can." A lovely young diver Named Nancy, Wore a bikini bottom quite chancy, The fish of Bonaire, Watched her derriere, And the sea fans all tickled her fancy. Nancy's mom, a Mrs. McCuddy, (Who's a bit of an old fuddy-duddy), Asked her sweet daughter, "Why?", Nancy gave this reply: "I never get lost from my buddy." A young maiden from France was no prude, She decided to dive in the nude, But her buddy, behind, Went out of his mind, When he noticed where she was tattooed. I think I shall never see, A shark that looks friendly to me, Whatever their sizes, My anxiety rises, And I find myself wanting to pee. He dove down overweighted with lead. Passed one hundred and flat lost his head. He flapped and he flailed, Spit his hose and he wailed, Swallowed water and found himself dead. There was a young man from Bonaire; Often narc'd in the dark I declare. He found, when imbibing, Then deeply night diving, He frequently ran out of air. A diver in upper New York, Bobbed 'round in the lakes like a cork, But the water's so cold Up there I am told, He came up with a frozen gazork. There was a Russian diver named Ribikoff, From the island of Libikoff. His bikini brief, Didn't cover his sheath, And a fish came along and bititoff. There once was a girl so lovely, Who wanted to make love in the bubbly, She strapped on her tanks, And started her pranks, But the lobsters all thought she was ugly. On day a Monterey daughter Did scuba down under the water. She later turned up The mom of a pup, And they say t'was a otter that gotter. At a depth not too great it is reckoned, Diver Dan met his girl and love beckoned, And so, glove in glove, Exhaling their love, They screwed up and one foot per second. For a long time philosophers debated about the tree-falling-in- the-forest-with-no-one-to-hear-it problem. Finally, due to an unknown bright philosopher who became bored in a university bathroom stall, the problem may have been resolved: There was a young man who said "God, I find it exceedingly odd, That the willow oak tree Continues to be, When there's no one about in the Quad." (and, of-course, the reply:) "Dear Sir, your astonishment's odd, For I'm always about in the Quad; And that's why the tree, Continues to be," Signed "yours faithfully, God." There once was a woman named Crewe Whose limericks stopped at line two... There was a young man from Verdun... This limerick's signed "Anonymous", To keep the author autonomous, Cause the rhyming scheme's bad, And the scan is just sad, And the punch line is really abominous. Here lies the body of Julian Grey, Who died defending his right-of-way. He was right, dead right, as he droned along, But he's just as dead as if he was wrong. Here lies the head of Joe Long, Who's terminal velocity was wrong. His torso's gone far, Along with his car, But there's not hide nor hair of his schlong. A mosquito cried out in pain: A chemist has poisoned my brain!" The cause of his sorrow was para-dichloro- diphenyltrichloroethane _ \/3 / | 2 3 x 3.14 3_ | z dz x cos (--------) = ln (\/e ) | 9 / 1 Which can be read as: Integral z-squared dz from 1 to the square root of 3 times the cosine of 3 pi over 9 equals log of the cube root of "e". And it's correct, too. The limerick packs laughs anatomical Into space that is quite economical, But the ones that I've seen So seldom are clean, And the clean ones are seldom so comical.