So the genius behind xkcd just opened up LimerickDB. Be warned, many (if not most) are definitely NSFW, but I find many of them quite clever, which I have repeated below.
There once was a buggy AI
Who decided her subject should die.
When the plot was uncovered,
The subjected discovered
That sadly the cake was a lie.
A woman in liquor production
Owns a still of exquisite construction.
The alcohol boils
Through magnetic coils.
She says that it’s “proof by induction.”
A preoccupied vegan named Hugh
picked up the wrong sandwich to chew.
He took a big bite
before spitting, in fright,
“OMG, WTF, BBQ!”
There once was a small juicy orange,
…f–k.
See that lighthouse beam in the sky
That guides yonder ships going by?
My friend shines that beam;
She’s living her dream.
I’m in grad school. I still don’t know why.
There was a young woman named Bright
Whose speed was much faster than light.
She set out one day
In a relative way,
And returned on the previous night.
A programmer started to cuss
Because getting to sleep was a fuss
As he lay there in bed
Looping ’round in his head
was: while(!asleep()) sheep++;
The limerick’s structure somewhat
necessitates eloquent smut.
If you haven’t the time
to learn meter and rhyme,
then don’t write them, you ignorant s–t.
There once was a girl named Lenore
And a bird and a bust and a door
And a guy with depression
And a whole lot of questions
And the bird always says “Nevermore.”
There once was a man from Japan
whose limericks just wouldn’t scan.
When asked why this was,
he answered, “Because
I always cram as many syllables into the last line as I possibly can.”
There once was a maid from Madras
Who had a magnificent ass.
Not rounded and pink,
as you’d possibly think;
It was gray, had long ears, and ate grass.
There once was a gal from Peru
whose limericks stopped on line two.
There was a zookeep from Nantucket
Who was struck by a fish — couldn’t duck it
He was thrown from the cage
By a pinniped’s rage.
Quoth the walrus, “You can’t has mah bukkit!”
A newspaper poet for Hearst
Deprived of his reason
By uncontrolled sneezing
Was by phantasmal demons coerced
To write all of his limericks reversed.
The limerick packs laughs astronomical
in a space that is most economical.
But of the ones that I’ve seen,
so few have been clean,
and the clean ones are seldom so comical.
A dozen, a gross, and a score
plus three times the square root of four
divided by seven
plus five times eleven
is nine squared, and not a bit more!
There once was a fellow from Xiangling
Whose greatest delight was in mangling
Poems. He would drop
Words between lines and lop
Their ends off, and leave readers dang
There was a limerick I heard,
With stressed syllables quite awkward.
Rhythm was somewhat
Still present in it, but
It forced mispronouncing every word.
To the skeptics I say, oh come off it.
Your aluminum hat? You can doff it.
To me it’s a riddle
Just what’s in the middle
But I’m sure that the last step is profit.
There once was a girl named Jude,
Who’s skirt by the wind was strewed.
A man came along,
And unless im quite wrong,
You expected this last line to be lewd.
Ther once was an old man of Esser,
Whose knowledge grew lesser and lesser,
It at last grew so small
He knew nothing at all,
And now he’s a college professor.
A student as smart as could be
Had to integrate x to the 3
He said “x to the 4
over 4, I am sure”
But was off by a constant of C.
Since your poems are clumsy and s–te,
No longer can I be polite:
Come on you f–ktard,
It’s really not hard,
to get the d–n syllables right.
A poet ran out of ideas;
Because he had no more ideas;
He repeated himself,
By repeating himself,
Because he ran out of ideas;
Two eager and dashing young beaux
Were held up and robbed of their cleaux
In summer it’s warm -
They’ll come to no harm
But what will they do if it sneaux?
There was a young man who said “God
Must find it exceedingly odd
To think that the tree
Should continue to be
When there’s no one about in the quad.”
“Dear Sir: Your astonishment’s odd;
I am always about in the quad.
And that’s why the tree
Will continue to be
Since observed by, Yours faithfully, God.”
There once was a poet named Gunderson
Whose rhyme schemes were all very cumbersome.
With each botched refrain,
he’d be heard to exclaim,
“Oh, how do I get myself into these situations?!
