There was an old crook named Fidel
Who woke up one morning in hell.
Batista said, "Comrade!
Step into the fire, lad.
They say we'll be sharing a cell."
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There was an old crook named Fidel
Who woke up one morning in hell.
Batista said, "Comrade!
Step into the fire, lad.
They say we'll be sharing a cell."
When the markets do what markets should
Could a bear hibernate if he would?
Get him out of the way
Since the bulls run today
And the sidelines are not looking good.
Humpty Dumpty says he cannot fall
As he sits like an egg on the wall.
Well, he fell anyway.
Cleanup crews start today
And there’s plenty of omelettes for all.
When markets go up some may say,
“They’ll go up!” feeling proud of the way
They’ve predicted the past
Though the past doesn’t last
And what’s last may not last through the day.
My goal is to not waste the day.
Doing what, though, I still cannot say.
When the Sun’s bright, I’m cheery,
But at night I get weary.
I’ve walked, but I don’t know which way.
There was an old man from Halifax
Who lived his whole life up t'themax
He blew all his dough
blow after blow
You could say his morals were verylax.
The time labelled ‘past’ had an end
And the future we guess with a trend.
But the present is real
Like a now we can feel
That the clock tries but can’t comprehend.
The once was a writer named Mac
Truth be told a horrible hack
Sat and typed all day
Bloody 'roids afray
Now Mac the hack needs a Quack
There once was a quack who could show
That his patients were healthy although
Many died, it is true,
But we all tend to do
Stuff like that when the quack wants more dough.
Whilst Mac was involved in hackery
And his doctor in mere quackery
The Doc preferred beans
And Mac collard greens
Together an assault on the olfactory
There once was a fart who was sad
Since his odor was all that he had
But the ladies abhorred
The fine smells he adored
With an ambiance badder than bad.
WARNING: This is another fart limerick.
Though the wind was caressing my back,
I still farted. It’s brains that I lack.
As the smell smacked my nose
The sweet fumes of the rose
Were replaced by a foul bean attack.
Hair slicked with a fistful of pomade
Mac at his gal's place to serenade
He flubbed a high note
She sought an antidote
And gave Mac a couple of Rolaids
Although chicks are not fond of the fart
And as critics they scorn this fine art
There are times even they--
I assume, anyway--
Leave a foul one to warm their sweetheart.
There once was a dragon to stop
And a knight who was judge-jury-cop
And a damsel so fair
You could smell her blonde hair
Over there where sweet dreams rise and pop.