There was an Old Man of the North,
Who fell into a basin of broth;
But a laudable cook,
Fished him out with a hook,
Which saved that Old Man of the North.
I remember when I was small and cool,
I was always playing truant from school.
My mum used to say,
"You'll regret it one day
When you grow up to become a fool."
Now I'm old; the damage is done.
How I wish I'd listened to Mum.
If I could turn back time,
I'd study hard and toe the line
Instead of acting foolish and dumb.
Now let that be a lesson to one and all
That life is more than just having a ball.
It was great having fun
When I was young,
But I wish I'd spent more time in the school hall.
(By John P. Read )
There was an Old Person of Dutton,
Whose head was as small as a button,
So, to make it look big,
He purchased a wig,
And rapidly rushed about Dutton.
There was an Old Man of Marseilles,
Whose daughters wore bottle-green veils;
They caught several Fish,
Which they put in a dish,
And sent to their Pa' at Marseilles.
There was an Old Man who said, 'How
Shall I flee from that horribke cow?
I will sit on this stile,
And continue to smile,
Which may soften the heart of that cow.'
There once was a [person] from [place]
Whose [body part] was [special case].
When [event] would occur,
It would cause [him or her]
To violate [law of time/space]
There was an Old Man of Moldavia,
Who had the most curious behaviour;
For while he was able,
He slept on a table.
That funny Old Man of Moldavia.
There was a young dentist who thrilled,
To the sound of a tooth being filled.
He would practise, they said,
Every night in his shed,
With the old drill he's skilled.
There was an Old Man of Dundee,
Who frequented the top of a tree;
When disturbed by the crows,
He abruptly arose,
And exclaimed, 'I'll return to Dundee.'
There was an Old Man of the South,
Who had an immederate mouth;
But in swallowing a dish,
That was quite full of fish,
He was choked, that Old Man of the South.
There was an Old Man of Vesuvius,
Who studied the works of Vitruvius;
When the flames burnt his book,
To drinking he took,
That morbid Old Man of Vesuvius.
There was an Old Person of Philæ,
Whose conduct was scroobious and wily;
He rushed up a Palm,
When the weather was calm,
And observed all the ruins of Philæ.
Limericks I cannot compose,
With noxious smells in my nose.
But this one was easy,
I only felt queasy,
Because I was sniffing my toes.
There was an Old Person of Anerley,
Whose conduct was strange and unmannerly;
He rushed down the Strand
With a pig in each hand,
But returned in the evening to Anerley.
There was an enchanting young bride,
Who ate many green apples and died.
The apples fermented,
inside the lamented,
and made cider inside her inside.
If you’re lacking a little good cheer,
Go and tickle a bull in the rear.
For I’m sure that the rumor,
That they’ve no sense of humor,
Is a product of ignorant fear.
There was a Young Lady of Portugal,
Whose ideas were excessively nautical:
She climbed up a tree,
To examine the sea,
But declared she would never leave Portugal.
There was an Old Sailor of Compton, Whose vessel a rock it once bump'd on;
The shock was so great, that it damaged the pate,
Of that singular Sailor of Compton.
There was an Old Person from Gretna,
Who rushed down the crater of Etna;
When they said, 'Is it hot?'
He replied, 'No, it's not!'
That mendacious Old Person of Gretna.
There was a Young Lady of Turkey,
Who wept when the weather was murky;
When the day turned out fine,
She ceased to repine,
That capricious Young Lady of Turkey.
If a person would have several friends,
here's the thing upon which it depends;
are you willing to share
when there isn't much there
and burn up your day from both ends.
(By Steve Mckee)
There was an Old Person of Ischia,
Whose conduct grew friskier and friskier;
He dance hornpipes and jigs,
And ate thousands of figs,
That lively Old Person of Ischia.
A circus performer named Brian,
Once smiled as he rode on a lion.
They came back from the ride,
But with Brian inside,
And the smile on the face of the lion.
There was a Young Lady of Norway,
Who casually sat on a doorway;
When the door squeezed her flat,
She exclaimed, 'What of that?'
This courageous Young Lady of Norway.
There was an Old Person of Burton,
Whose answers were rather uncertain;
When they said, 'How d'ye do?'
He replied, 'Who are you?'
That distressing Old Person of Burton.
There once was a man from the Wold
Who loved drinking beer icy cold.
As he reached for his cup,
NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP!
Oooh, snap! You've been limerickrolled!
There was an Ol Man of Quebec,
A beetle ran over his neck;
But he cried, 'With a needle,
I'll slay you, O beadle!'
That angry Old Man of Quebec.
There was an Old Man of the coast,
Who placidly sat on a post;
But when it was cold
He relinquished his hold
And called for some hot buttered toast.
There was a boisterous boy called Joe
Who loved to play in the fresh falling snow.
He went sledging one day
On his wild husky powered sleigh,
Tumbled tumultuously and broke his big toe.
There was an Old Person of Tring,
Who embellished his nose with a ring;
Ha gazed at the moon
Every evening in June,
That ecstatic Old Person in Tring.
There was a young man from Lahore
Whose limericks stopped at line four.
When asked why this was,
He responded, "Because."
There was an Old Man at a casement,
Who held up his hands in amazement;
When they said, 'Sir, you'll fall!'
He replied, 'Not at all!'
That incipient Old Man at a casement.
There was a Young Lady of Russia,
Who screamed so that no one could hush her;
Her screams were extreme,
No one heard such a scream,
As was screamed by that lady of Russia.
I need a front door for my hall,
The replacement I bought was too tall.
So I hacked it and chopped it,
And carefully lopped it,
And now the dumb thing is too small.
There was an Old Man with a gong,
Who bumped at it all day long.
But they called out, no more,
You're a horrid old bore,
So they smashed that Old Man with a gong.
There was an Old Person of Leeds,
Whose head was infested with beads;
She sat on a stool,
And ate gooseberry fool,
Which agreed with that person of Leeds.
There was an Old Man of Whitehaven,
Who danced a quadrille with a raven;
But they said, 'It's absurd
To encourage this bird!'
So they smashed that Old Man of Whitehaven.
There once was a boy named Dan,
who wanted to fry in a pan.
He tried and he tried,
and eventually died,
that weird little boy named Dan.
I met her in chat, she was neat,
her photo was pretty, petite.
we met for a meal,
I saw her for real,
I screamed and then ran down the street!
There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who sat on a horse when he reared;
But they said, "Never mind!
You will fall off behind,
You propitious Old Man with a beard!"
There was an Old Person of Mold,
Who shrank from sensations of cold,
So he purchased some muffs,
Some furs and some fluffs,
And wrapped himself from the cold.
There was a young lady named Rose,
Who had a large wart on her nose.
When she had it removed,
Her appearance improved,
But her glasses slipped down to her toes.
She followed her nose,
One day, I suppose,
And no one knows which way she went.
There once was a lady from Guam
who said, "Now the sea is so calm,
I shall swim in the dark!"
She encountered a shark.
Let us all sing the Twenty-Third Psalm.
There was a young lady from Niger,
Who smiled as she rode on a tiger.
They came back from the ride,
With the lady inside,
And the smile on the face of the tiger.
A mosquito cried out in great pain,
"A chemist has poisoned my brain!"
And the cause of his sorrow
Was para-dichloro-
Diphenyl-trichloroethane.
An elephant slept in his bunk,
And in slumber his chest rose and sunk.
But he snored -- how he snored!
All the other beasts roared,
So his wife tied a knot in his trunk.
There once was a poet named Bates
Whose limericks were never that great
His first lines weren't bad
But the problem he had
Was he always tried to fit way too many syllables in at the end.
There was an Old Man of the Wrekin
Whose shoes made a horrible creaking
But they said, 'Tell us whether,
Your shoes are of leather,
Or of what, you Old Man of the Wrekin?'
There was an Old Person of Buda,
Whose conduct grew ruder and ruder;
Till at last, with a hammer,
They silenced his clamour,
By smashing that Person of Buda.
I've done it -- I've done mown the lawn,
But my muscles are aching and torn.
I could swear there are some,
In my legs and my bum,
I've not used since the year I was born.