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There once was an artist named Lear Although at the Limericks of Lear, Let's all sing the praise of young Lear, One day, as folks stood on the pier, There was an old feline named Foss, There once was a person called Lear Though of genius this may be a fitter sign, His paintings such talent displayed This he does; and for children designs This 'Nonsense' was followed by songs Meanwhile throughout Europe he'd ride To the days of his pilgrimage here, As the rhythm entices us here How nice of that dear Mr. Lear, Happy Birthday to dear Edward Lear; Nonsense for the people - no fear! Number 30 Seymour Street swears Would Edward, our patron Saint, Lear Mere nonsense no more, now that they've There was an old fellow called Lear The pink buds have refused to unclose, An old limerick rhymer named Dove (all were dirty old men - McW)
The late poet Wystan Hugh Auden, There was a young poet named Browning The best poets are all named Robert. A splendid young fellow was Byron His Lordship went wooing his sister He swam in canals, and Lake Como; No, Listen, there's this albatross, I knocked long 'fore he turned back the door lock; I knocked before he turned the door lock. An old poet named Coventry Patmore A poet named Robinson Jeffers (epicene - ambipectrous)
Wanted: Limericks skillfully done. Poor Dylan had punched his last card... E.A. Poe's betrothed, Ida Mae Flusher, A wonderful writer was he, Found: Last evening a rather large crow, Abstention now means--just say NO. Do you know about Poe's House of Usher? I love thee; I've counted the ways. Robert Browning was known for his plays, Her suitors bring flowers, a-pickin' some, Emily Dickinson, devoid of spouse, Poor Ezra, he so hated war... There once was a couple named Mound, When I think of the late Gertrude Stein Henry found playing the cello Ivy Compton-Burnett's irritations! There once was a poet named Joyce, There's a genial young poetriarch Euge John Betjeman, poet bar none, That fine English poet, John Donne, A theatrical tenebris Yeats The Scot Billy Mac should be tarred There once was a poet named Keats Miss Fanny, adored by John Keats, There was a young poet named Keats When Keats was at work on Endymion, "It is good," said Keats of his prize, Both Keats and Boccaccio tell a There was a young poet named Keats John Keats, who was anxious to learn That silly young man from St. Bees No wonder that Lord Bulwer-Lytton The life of George Gordon, Lord Byron
Who wrote verses to make children cheer.
Though they never made sense,
Their success was immense,
And the Queen thought that Lear was a dear.
--- H L Brock
We may feel a temptation to sneer,
We should never forget
That we owe him a debt
For his work as the first pioneer.
--- Langford Reed
Whose limericks have brought so much cheer;
Though no Rudyard Kipling,
This fanciful stripling
Gave birth to the rhyme with the leer.
--- Norm Storer
They said, "That old man looks most queer!
From the shape of his nose,
And his twiddly toes,
We think it must be Mr. Lear."
--- Harold C Bibby
Who wished to share mice with his boss.
He'd bring one and purr
But Lear would demur,
On grounds they had run out of sauce.
--- Bill Cooke
Whose status is somewhat unclear,
For most think his name
Is entitled to fame,
Just for this which I illustrate her.
--- Mary Holtby P9401
One ought not all glory to it assign;
Zoological art
Was his line at the start
And his sitters were frequently psittacine. (parrots)
--- Mary Holtby P9401
That a nobleman came to his aid.
'Dear Lear, are you willin'
To practice your skill in
My home--and in Rome--If I paid?
--- Mary Holtby P9401
Brief verses whose span he confines--
Though the space is made bigger
To fit in a figure--
To five biographical lines.
--- Mary Holtby P9401
About Jumbles and Pobbles and Dongs,
And that fine pair of beasts
To whose runcible feasts,
An immortal aroma belongs.
--- Mary Holtby P9401
And take Egypt and Greece in his stride.
Few landscapes escape a
Transmission to paper--
Till at last at San Remo he died.
--- Mary Holtby P9401
This depressive brought beauty and cheer,
And readers hereafter
Shall cry through their laughter:
'How pleasant to know Mr. Lear!'
--- Mary Holtby P9401
To pay tribute to old Edward Lear,
Who invented the form,
Let us keep his seat warm
With a blanket of limerickal cheer!
--- Mary Sullivan
To invent a verse form that I fear,
Some people will use
Without any excuse,
For rhymes causing nudge, wink or leer.
--- Prof M-G
If I could I would buy him a beer,.
Though he ended line one
As his line five was done,
(And fine art was his chosen career).
--- Doug Harris P0506
They still love his work it is clear;
The publisher's attitude
Is eternal gratitude,
As tills overflow with good cheer.
--- Doug Harris P0506
That it still has the floor and the stairs
Betrodden by Lear,
Who once lived here;
And if they are squeaking, who cares?
--- Bill Backe-Hansen P8808
On reading what is printed here,
Rotate in his grave
And then mercy crave
Or would he, our patron Saint, Leer?
--- Irving Superior P8505a
Been used to corrupt anad deprave,
So that sound that you hear
Must be old Edward Lear,
As he slowly rotates in his grave.
--- Richard Long
Who existed on oysters and beer.
He traveled to Spain,
Never came back again,
But I think I can smell him from here!
--- Anon
The aroma's not much to disclose.
Gardening's been luckless,
For Alice B. Toklas,
Still, a rose is a rose is a rose.
--- G0477
Filled his verses with uncommon love:
Aristophanes, Martial,
Baudelaire were quite partial,
Even Goethe smiled down from above.
--- Armand E Singer intro D
Left us poems never maudl'n but mod'n.
The first things he wrote
Struck a socialist note,
But increasingly, then he let God'n.
--- John Ciardi
Who rescued a virgin from drowning.
Next day they got married,
Next month, she miscarried--
His philosophy kept him from frowning.
--- G2275
Most other poets make my ears hurt.
Just Burns and Frost;
The rest should get lost,
Along with the drivel they spurt.
--- Marlene
And truly a poet of Yron.
He fought for the Greek,
Admiring his cheek:
For it was the Turk that he'd Fyron.
--- Paul H LeBrun
Or so it was said, when he kister;
Instead of a bow,
His aim was so low,
He tripped over his foot and so mister!
--- Paul H LeBrun
Kept pets, and a Wop Major-domo.
This punky young Lord
Felt his pen was his sword:
So was he a Het. Or a Homo?
--- Paul H LeBrun
I shot him, he wasn't half cross.
He had the crew cursed; he
Made us feel thirsty.
I'm ancient now. Tragic, eh, boss?
--- Bill Greenwell
"Afternoon," I said, touching my forelock.
But Sam wouldn't chat;
Said "I've no time for that",
So I took myself back home to Porlock.
--- Peter Wilkins
"Afternoon," I said, touching my forelock.
But Sam wouldn't chat,
And said, "No time for that."
So I took myself back home to Porlock.
--- Phil T
Would say he thought no man had shat more,
Or wetter or worse,
Or a niftier verse,
And added: "I piss and I cat more."
--- G2278
Wrote quatrains as light as the zephyrs.
He was fragile and lean,
And a bit epicene
(Except when fucking the heifers).
--- G2377
This is file nem
Pay in dollars for verses is one
For those ladies can share.
Two for clergymen's fare.
Ten for limericks. Don Marquis. The Sun.
--- A N Wilkins P8703
Drank sixteen straight whiskeys...toped hard!
In a coma he fell...
No more magic spell...
So died that bibacious Welsh bard.
--- Tutta Gioia
Wore as makeup, soft highlights and blusher.
Although she didn't try,
What caught E.A. Poe's eye,
Was the fall of the blouse styled by Usher.
--- Loren Fitzhugh P9912
With "The Raven" and Annabel Lee,"
And it shouldn't surprise
That his fame would arise;
The poet fits Poe to a "t".
--- Sally Yocum P9710a
Partialy trained. The one word it does know
Incessantly spoken.
Bird not house broken.
Its owner should call E. A. Poe.
--- A N Wilkins P8703
Unless you are E. Allen Poe.
Then, "Nevermore" will do,
And a pipe or two,
Then back to his bells he would go.
--- Irving Superior P9708
'Twas rebuilt to make it much plusher.
A nice place all in all,
With four baths down the hall.
The home sold as a classic four flusher.
--- Tom Patton P0408
With great breadth, thy cock has my praise.
I love thy prick's height
In soft candle light...
With pure love, I can't shift my gaze.
--- Ogni Gioia
Applauded and lauded with praise;
With his pen and his ink, he
Made love -- (Rather kinky!)
Said Liz, "Let me count the ways."
--- Ann Gasser P9004
And admire her bosoms, a-lickin' some.
She accepts hugs and kisses
To most orifices
But Emily prefers a dick-in-some.
--- Chip Sloan a
Wore the same Leg 0' Mutton sleeved blouse,
Year in and year out.
And while she was devout,
Never went to church nor left her house.
--- Loren Fitzhugh P0105
With reason he lost all rapport.
Got anti-Semitic,
Democracy's critic...
The Fascists' seduced and bought whore.
--- Tutta Gioia
Whose sexual control was profound.
When engaged in coition,
They had the ambition
To study the Cantos by Pound.
--- Anon G2433
I'm reminded of what made her shine.
While at Chicago U.
She did pen one or two
Poems, time after time after time.
--- Loren Fitzhugh P0212
With his woggle, made tones much more mellow...
As he bowed with great pride,
The maid spied him and sighed,
My goodness! You ARE a long fellow.
--- Tutta Gioia
And the titles she gives her narrations!
All those misses and misters,
Those "Brothers and Sisters"--
They all sound like sexual relations!
--- Anon G0807
Who had an effeminate voice.
Since he was a man.
The moniker, Stan
Would have been a more suitable choice.
--- Anon
Who hollars with heartiness huge:
Let such soulks sob for solace
So the jejune joy with Jolas!
Book your berths! Apres Mots, le deluge.
--- James Joyce P9008
Had a crush on Miss Joan Hunter-Dunn.
So she said to him, "How
Would you like it in Slough,
Now the bombing you prayed for's begun?"
--- Peter Wilkins
Was wont to admonish the sun.
"You busy old fool,
Lie still and keep cool,
For I am in bed having fun."
--- Wendy Cope
Went out on a tour of the States.
He preached against pelf,
But he collared himself
About 50 percent of the gates.
--- James Joyce P9311
And feathered, that Gaelic retard.
I'll go with John Keats,
When of beauty he treats;
He's clearly our very best bard.
--- Anon
Who enjoyed smelling bicycle seats.
For those used by men
He had no great yen,
But those squiffed by girls, he thought treats.
--- G2381
Loved romances and sucking on sweets.
Yet one glance from this skirt
Could reduce the poor squirt
To a few inarticulate bleats.
--- Keith H Peterson
Who shagged every day in the streets.
He did it because
The alternative was
To shit every night in his sheets.
--- G2276
He suddenly shouted, "Oh, gimme an
Unashamed naked nereid
From the Ancient Greek period,
Not just Fanny Brawne, with her shimmy on."
--- Victor Gray
"Between my two arms when she sighs,
Though better," said Keats,
"When it's between sheets,
And best when it's between her thighs."
--- Michael Polo P8612
Sad tale about Isabella,
Who was worn to a frazzle,
Weeping over some basil
That grew from the skull of her fella.
--- Joyce Johnson
Who kept his friends glued to their seats,
By stories in verse
Of himself and his nurse,
And their marvelous sexual feats.
--- Isaac Asimov
How much he was Ode for a churn.
He made for some Grecians
With sylvan accretions,
Asked, "How much does a good Grecian earn?"
--- Laurence Perrine P9211
Said, "My favorite poem is 'Trees';
I like the part best
'Bout the 'sweet flowing breast;"
Kilmer's verse makes me weak in the knees!"
--- Robin K Willoughby P8507
With the penning of novels was smitten:
Every morn is a trice
His wife sucked him off twice--
"The Coming Race" had to be written.
--- G0808
Was sexually quite uninspirin';
He would use, now and then,
The rear ends of young men,
An act most were far from admirin'.
--- Isaac Asimov
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