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Perverts
There was a sly wily Berliner, Renowned as a secretive sinner. So sly, elementary, And phased was his entry, No fräulein detected him in her.
A lonely young farmer from Boulder Got thrown off his favourite cow, Golda. He loathed the sad life Of a man with no wife, So he asked a good woman to hold her.
Bess, betrayed, expressed feelings she’d carried Since catching her Joe with gay Jarried: ‘It’s not odd o’ me, Joe, To curse sodomy so – Just this morning, my God, Joe, we married!’
A cute knickerless lady of Clyde Felt her shoelace was coming untied, So she bent sweetly over, And men down to Dover Popped out, and a few slipped inside.
Clever lap-dancer, Hot Botty Bember, Does men’s Mensa nights in December. They love acute Bot, For she takes in a lot From each smartly upstanding male member.
Though Chrissie, a gymnast from Exeter, Was used to guys flexing hard pecs at her, She felt him misguided When Jeffrey decided To flex the hard root of his sex at her.
Kind young Em of Victoria Falls Once attended two popular balls. She was mostly between ’em, So wasn’t much seen, Em, For both of those balls were young Paul’s.
In New York, on the stock exchange floor, Now that nudists hold sway, there is more Pornographic parading And swapping and trading Than seen in bare markets before. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This limerick was written in collaboration with Howard Spindel. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A shy knight who had sailed with da Gama Was cursed by a maid with loud drama. ‘Sir,’ she yelled, ‘thou art rude, For while I lieth nude, You do lie on me clad in full armour!’ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The three main rhyming words in this limerick use British pronunciation: --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There lived on the plain of Karroo A dependable sheep farmer who Often lost three hours’ sleep To take care of his sheep — Though she wished he would lose only two. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dedicated to bestswanbird, Yorkshire lass, fellow OEDILF limericist, and dogged — but not sheepish — supporter of this naughty yarn, even as others bleated about its deficiencies, and fought tooth and hoof to edit its woolly conclusion. A compromise sheep’s tale, written for those who wished to have less of this girl-sheep’s woolliness getting in the way of both the farmer and reader comprehension, follows. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There lived on the plain of Karroo A dependable sheep farmer who Was prepared to lose sleep To take care of his sheep — But he seldom stayed up after two. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This one is dedicated to the other fine OEDILF editors I have fondly teased above. While some did support the original version, those who did not were just as helpful. They helped me hone my skills with all their invaluable input, and at the same time encouraged me to write this slightly more “international” version, for the phrase “take care of” does not have suggestive connotations in America and Canada, and in the last line the farmer therefore needed a little less ambiguous help keeping up his end. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was a crazed Kenyan called Kyle Who was drawn to a cute crocodile. He thought he might chance A romantic advance – Then he entered her whole, which was vile.
The wife of the sheik of Molucca Would beg him for sex, or his succa. As much as she whined, He remained disinclined (And so, too, did his succa) to fucca.
There was a poor guy from Natal Who met once – in Egypt – a gal Whom he sweetly called Suez, Unaware, like most wooers, A sewer was Suez’ canal.
A spectre was dying to pair With a spirit who drifted round bare. In response to his craving To start misbehaving, She whimpered, ‘With what and in where?’
So helpful is Pussy-Pat Payle That she’s printed the price of her tail On the relevant places In scripts of twelve races And blind men are favoured with Braille.
A dazed milkman advised one or two Of his brush with the wild Miss Peru. He then screeched for the cops, Who, in two minutes tops Found her house, but they still had to queue.
There was once a tough whore known as Prue Who got rich though her tricks were quite few. She explained with a grin, ‘First they pay to get in, Then they pay to get out of it, too.’
In great Rome was a lady, Rappatio, Who shook, with her hand, shy Horatio. He said, ‘You are kind, But if, now, you don’t mind, Introduce me as well to Fellatio.’
A dangerous rich bitch known as Sada, Built a palace with cash fools had paid her. The walls of its halls Were hung high with the balls And the tools of the fools who had laid her.
There was a young fellow named Scripps Who removed all his pockets from hips Because that which he’d handled (And shamelessly dandled) Had burst through a hundred good zips
Said Tatum to Tom, ‘Your suggestion Is quite rude and has ruined my digestion. It’s mean or immoral And horribly – ’ Tom Just withdrew the suggestion in question.
The brash daughters of Tash of Tashkent Got secured by that gent with cement. He could safely then bellow At any sore fellow Who went from their tent looking bent.
An extremely shy Roman from Thrace Lay for hours in a sexual embrace. When begged by the whore, ‘Will you please now withdraw!’ He said, ‘Firsta you turna your face.’
A voracious old dough-cook from Trent Felt that milkmen were all heaven-sent. She lured them with pies, And then locked her great thighs, Till they fell out quite battered and bent.
A fine organist, famed in Verona, Gave entry to men who would phona. As most of these stayed, She concurrently played On the organs of more than one dona.
Perhaps you’re a girl reader who Is appalled by the hot Miss Peru, But think of the others (For instance, your brothers) Who’d queue to do, too, or to view.
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