December 1997

Limericks o' the Day


A sensitive fellow named Harry
Thought sex too revolting to marry.
So he went out in curls
And frowned on the girls,
And he got to be known as a fairy.


There was a young girl of Rangoon
Who was blocked by the Man in the Moon.
"Well, it has been great fun,"
She remarked when he'd done,
"But I'm sorry you came quite so soon."


There was an Archbishop of Rhiems
Who played with himself in his dreams.
On his night-shirt in front
He painted a cunt,
Which made his spend gush forth in streams.


A nudist from over the Pass,
Thinks the Fourth of July is a gas,
His cock (and balls too)
He paints red, white, and blue,
And he sticks a flag pole up his ass.
Contributed by
Bill Wiley


There was a young lady from Munich
Who had an affair with a eunuch.
At the height of her passion
He dealt her a ration
From a squirt gun concealed 'neath his tunic.
Contributed by
William Ruddy


The wandering mujahedin
To many strange places has been.
He likes a young lass
Or a boy's tender ass
And with one or two sheep he's been seen!
Contributed by
Doug McIntosh


"It's long and it's firm and it's ripe
I confess that it's just how I like!"
Thus the young fairy said
Bending over the bed,
"Now shove it right up my back pipe!"
Contributed by
Doug McIntosh


The limerick packs laughs anatomical
Into space that's quite economical.
But the good ones I've seen
So seldom are clean,
And the clean ones so seldom are comical.
Contributed by
Doug McIntosh


A quiet young fellow named Nate
With both hands diddled his mate.
It was three fingers in 'er
And one flutt'ring agin' her
That opened her juices' floodgate.
Contributed by
Mistress Amelia


At the Iphigenia of Gluck
Two ushers attempted to fuck.
At the blare of the brass
One contracted his ass,
And they carted him off in a truck.


At Vassar sex isn't injurious,
Though of love we are never penurious.
Thanks to vulcanized aids
Though we may die old maids,
At least we shall never die curious.


Love letters no longer they write us,
To their homes they so seldom invite us.
It grieves me to say,
They have learned with dismay,
We can't cure their vulva pruritus.


A fox-hound retired from the hunt
For he found that his lobes had grown blunt
To the scent of the fox,
But he still would sniff rocks
For the mystical fragrance of cunt.


There was a young fellow named Edward
Who preferred a live trope to a dead word.
He never would speak
Of taking a leak,
But instead said his urge was to headward.


A young architect named Yorik
Who could, when feeling euphoric
Display for selection
Three kinds of erection,
Corinthian, Ionic and Doric!
Contributed by
R. Baudy


There once was a sailor from Brighton
Who said to his girl, "You're a tight one!"
She said, "'Pon my soul,
You're in the wrong hole -
There's plenty of room in the right one."
Contributed by
John Blonsick


There was an old man of the Cape
Who buggered a Barbary ape.
The ape said, "You fool!
You've got a square tool;
You've buggered my arse out of shape!"


A cardinal living in Rome
Had a Renaissance bath in his home.
He could gaze at the nudes
As he worked up his moods
In emulsions of semen and foam.


A young indian boy from Madras
Loved to shag the girls in the grass.
Then out came the sun
To spoil all his fun
By burning the hairs on his ass!
Contributed by
Dirk Cook


In La France once a clevair young man
Met a girl on the beach down at Cannes.
Said the mademoiselle,
"Eh, m'sieu, vot ze 'ell?
Stay away where eet ees not son-tan!"


A keeper in Hamburg's great zoo
Tried to have a young girl kangaroo.
But she zipped up her pouch,
And the rascal said, "Ouch!
You've got a half peter in you."


I once had the wife of a Dean
Seven times while the Dean was out ski'in'.
She remarked with some gaiety,
"Not bad for the laity,
Though the Bishop once managed thirteen."


There was an old man at the Terminus
Whose bush and whose bum were all verminous.
They said, "You sale Boche!
You really must wash
Before you start planting your sperm in us."

Luetic Lament
Part 1 of 7:
There was a young man of Back Bay
Who thought syphilis just went away,
And felt that a chancre
Was merely a canker
Acquired in lascivious play.

Part 2 of 7:

Now first he got acne vulgaris,
The kind that is rampant in Paris,
It covered his skin,
From forehead to shin,
And now people ask where his hair is.

Part 3 of 7:

With symptoms increasing in number,
His aorta's in need of a plumber,
His heart is cavorting,
His wife is aborting,
And now he's acquired a gumma.

Part 4 of 7:

Consider his terrible plight---
His eyes won't react to the light,
His hands are apraxic,
His gait is ataxic,
He's developing gun-barrel sight.

Part 5 of 7:

His passions are strong, as before,
But his penis is flaccid, and sore,
His wife now has tabes
And sabre-shinned babies---
She's really worse off than a whore.

Part 6 of 7:

There are pains in his belly and knees,
His sphincters have gone by degrees,
Parozysmal incontinence,
With all its concomitants,
Brings on quite unpredictable pees.

Part 7 of 7:

Though treated in every known way,
His spirochetes grow day by day,
He's developed paresis,
Converses with Jesus,
And thinks he's the Queen of the May.


The late Brigham Young was no neuter---
No faggot, no fairy, no fruiter.
Where ten thousand virgins
Succumbed to his urgin's
There now stands the great State of Utah.

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