Limericks Live!

An author of fiction, called Frank
Was robbed on his way to the bank.
He fell to the ground

An author of fiction, called Frank
Was robbed on his way to the bank.
He fell to the ground
With his book that was bound

An author of fiction, called Frank
Was robbed on his way to the bank.
He fell to the ground
With his book that was bound
In tinfoil, which he thought was swank.

Colleen had a collie called Clive

Colleen had a collie called Clive
(The dog was more dead than alive!)

Colleen had a collie called Clive
(The dog was more dead than alive!).
He groaned and he moaned

Colleen had a collie called Clive
(The dog was more dead than alive!).
He groaned and he moaned
So she had the mutt cloned

Colleen had a collie called Clive
(The dog was more dead than alive!).
He groaned and he moaned
So she had the mutt cloned
But it's doubtful Clive II will survive.

Every summer I go to the shore

Every summer I go to the shore
Where I burn till my tushy is sore.

Every summer I go to the shore
Where I burn till my tushy is sore.
The smell of the sea

Every summer I go to the shore
Where I burn till my tushy is sore.
The smell of the sea
Makes me say "Oh dear me,

Every summer I go to the shore
Where I burn till my tushy is sore.
The smell of the sea
Makes me say "Oh dear me,
I really can’t take any more.


O where did old Flying Tart go?

O where did old Flying Tart go?
We all love her limericks so.

O where did old Flying Tart go?
I loved her sardonics, you know.

O where did old Flying Tart go?
I loved her sardonics, you know.
Her verve and her wit

O where did old Flying Tart go?
I loved her sardonics, you know.
Her verve and her wit
Were always a hit


__________________

O where did old Flying Tart go?
I loved her sardonics, you know.
Her verve and her wit
Were always a hit
Like a word-empow'red Marcel Marceau.

My clock struck thirteen Sunday night

My clock struck thirteen Sunday night
And my Orwellian fears did excite

My clock struck thirteen Sunday night
And my Orwellian fears did excite.
I looked at the screen,

My clock struck thirteen Sunday night
And my Orwellian fears did excite.
I looked at the screen,
And my face turned pea green

My clock struck thirteen Sunday night
And my Orwellian fears did excite.
I looked at the screen,
And my face turned pea green,
and then red, and then blue, and then white.


A kitty cat sleeps on my bed.

My clock struck thirteen Sunday night
And my Orwellian fears did excite.
I looked at the screen,
And my face turned pea green,
though the chance of apocalypse slight.


The cheers and applause filled my head

The cheers and applause filled my head
The dragon was slain, good 'n' dead

The cheers and applause filled my head
The dragon was slain, good 'n' dead
But here comes his Dad

The cheers and applause filled my head
The dragon was slain, good 'n' dead
But here comes his Dad
Uh-oh, folks, this looks bad

The cheers and applause filled my head
The dragon was slain, good 'n' dead
But here comes his Dad
Uh-oh, folks, this looks bad
But shhhh! I'll hide under my bed.

When Cynthia drinks too much gin