There once was a lonely ghost,
More promiscuous in life than most…
Scared ladies he’d meet
With the bulge in his sheet…
It protruded out bold like a post.
Engage well in tickles and laughter…
It makes the nights longer and dafter…
To comedy’s dance
Ye can come in yer pants…
But make sure yer cleans up well after.
A butcher’s not judged on his walk,
Or graces or fancy talk…
I’m sure you’ll agree
‘Tis the good quality,
And the size of his finest pork.
A seaman, inside a crow’s nest
Seeks decision on where he shall quest.
Whether South, to the trove
Of a warm, tropic cove…
Or North to the mounts he likes best.
An elderly vampire named Keith,
Once caught a fair maid in the heath.
While trying to suck,
He cried ‘I’sh nah luck!
I’sh gone an’ forgotten me teef!’
Shout yer limerick, dear nutter –
The poet’s bread and butter.
Grab hold of yer quill
Move it frantic until
Yer naughty mind’s lost in the gutter.