RE: Limerick Competition
Discussion
There is an ugly chancellor called Schröder
who gives of an offensive odour
with 4 rings on his car
matches wives so far
it's no wonder we're fed up.....oder?
There was a far slug called Kohl
who stole and he stole and he stole
when questioned about it
he said, I doubt it
and gave himself a medal
who gives of an offensive odour
with 4 rings on his car
matches wives so far
it's no wonder we're fed up.....oder?
There was a far slug called Kohl
who stole and he stole and he stole
when questioned about it
he said, I doubt it
and gave himself a medal
A hair raising rhyme
A man goin’ buskin
Took a ride in a Tuscan
Painted a bright glowing red
But the journey was short
As he rapidly sought
To replace the hair on his head
The manic machine,
Often unseen,
had rushed up to a ton so fast
that his once flowing locks
were now in a box
a long way back on the grass
The whitefaced composer
was now a bit closer
to making friends with the giver
with his back in the seat
and no weight on his feet
he knew what life’s like in a tivver
From that day thereon
his ultimate song
was the roar of a speed six
he changed his guitar
and looked for a car
that gave him the ultimate kicks
So now on the street
No one can compete
With his choice of flying machine
And having no hair
Makes the headlights all glare
At the back of his head in the screen
So the sting in tail
If it’s the throttle you nail
may not be something you dig
for the flow of the air
across thinning hair
may result in buying a wig!
But, oh what the hell
let’s give it a spell
of tyre smoking fun on the track
If your hair takes a turn
then just watch it burn
as you catch it on the way back.
Anon.
A man goin’ buskin
Took a ride in a Tuscan
Painted a bright glowing red
But the journey was short
As he rapidly sought
To replace the hair on his head
The manic machine,
Often unseen,
had rushed up to a ton so fast
that his once flowing locks
were now in a box
a long way back on the grass
The whitefaced composer
was now a bit closer
to making friends with the giver
with his back in the seat
and no weight on his feet
he knew what life’s like in a tivver
From that day thereon
his ultimate song
was the roar of a speed six
he changed his guitar
and looked for a car
that gave him the ultimate kicks
So now on the street
No one can compete
With his choice of flying machine
And having no hair
Makes the headlights all glare
At the back of his head in the screen
So the sting in tail
If it’s the throttle you nail
may not be something you dig
for the flow of the air
across thinning hair
may result in buying a wig!
But, oh what the hell
let’s give it a spell
of tyre smoking fun on the track
If your hair takes a turn
then just watch it burn
as you catch it on the way back.
Anon.
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