Lymerick

I

Trying to explain why the damsel got caught by the dragon

Most dragons like sitting on gold
While the knight wants a damsel to hold,
But the damsel prefers
Those knights richer than hers
Or that dragon both well-off and old.

II

The problem with dragon gold is both knights and damsels want it

A dragon sits deep in his cave.
He has gold since he knows how to save.
There’s a damsel distressed
By her shiny knight pest
Sneaking in since gold makes fools brave.

III

The dragon has sold all his gold

The dragon said, “Gold’s gonna drop.”
So he sold when gold hit a new top
And the damsel moaned, “Why?”
You could hear the knight cry,
But those bulls couldn’t make that bear stop.

There was an old girl named Sofia
I knew a brief time in Crimea;
I took her to bars,
She showed me her scars,
And left me acute gonorrhea.

There once was a pooch named Bruce
Who agreed to a ceasefire truce
But Bruce a slow learner
And with a real burner
In the house left a hot steamy deuce

But for fear I appeared to be brave.
Being dumb made me harder to save.
When those monsters ate lunch
Even bones had to crunch
But at least I did not need a grave.

There once was a bashful young bride
Who couldn't make love, though she tried.
She'd slip off her teddy
And cry: "Dick, I'm ready!"
Though she knew not for what, I confide.

There was a young lady named Betty
Whose favors fell free as confetti;
One night on a sheet
She exclaimed: "Oh, you're Pete!
I thought you were Tom, Dick, or Eddie."

I didn't repower my IPad
I forgot all about the the thing: my bad.
It makes me feel senile,
This noggin so penile.
The deuce! I've no juice today, by gad!

What you’ll need is a rather large pot
Since the mass of a monster’s a lot.
Drop some veggies in, too,
As you stir this fine stew.
When it’s done, it will taste good--or not.

There was a young lady named Doll
Who longed for just one decent ball;
She got her desire
And laid on with fire:
It soared o'er the center field wall.

There was a young lady named Bloom
Who had a notorious womb;
She sat by the waters
With Erin's fair daughters
And called Irishmen to their doom.

Named Molly, the lady in question,
She'd curves that pigeons could nest on,
And under her thatch,
A Peacock did hatch,
Bright blue with an indigo crest on.

Now Susie the seamstress's daughter,
Had far more to drink than she oughta,
So her seams twisted round,
Leaving gussets unbound,
Which was not how her mother had taught 'er.

But though from a seamstress born,
Haute Couture she always did scorn,
And often said nay,
to a new neglege,
prefering her jim-jams all torn.

There was a young gal named Susie
Wouldn't wear the nighty of a floozy
It's no flim-flam
Liked her jim-jams
Except of course while in the jacuzzi

When those Halloween spooks ring my door
I’d run to them creaking the floor.
They must wait patiently.
I move slower they see,
But I’ve treats that they’ve come looking for.

Molly was a diva of opera,
Who's behavior was often improperer,
Her cries of glee,
Would Register top C,
And no man could ever stopper 'er.

Some fellows enjoy feeding trolls
Fresh meat with sweet cinnamon rolls.
To aid evil elves
Gets them high on themselves;
Hallelujah, amen, bless their souls.

When those mood swings pop up, as they would,
Then the world acts the way that it should.
When they crash, well, they crash
Like a rock loves to splash
Like a splash loves to cover you good.

Anon comes the month of November,
When all good folk turkeys dismember;
It brings families closest,
Avoids psittacosis,
And it IS us or them, please remember.

Stella really loves halloween night,
being able to give kids a fright.
As she waits by the door
in her costume, it's sure
they will scream at the horrible sight.

I got no costumers this season:
Neither goblins nor grues came a-teasin'.
But I laugh at the trickers
And this big bag of Snickers
For an elf (that's myself) is the reason.

A young witch got banned from the coven
For being too groomed and un-common
The wart on her nose,
And the hair twixt her toes,
she often would pamper and cozen

Said the wart to the pimple, oh dear!
You can't set up home over here.
How can you be scary?
You're not even hairy!
So go on, foul spot, disappear!

I have warts I can easily see.
I have warts living happy and free.
I have warts on my rear.
On my warts, warts appear.
All are friends, since no others want me.

Over the years with the air fresh or stale,
Overland with my feet as a sail
It seems I got where
I was meant to out there
But the best part of all was that trail.

Since my wife went abroad I ain't eatin':
I just stare at my coffee repeatin'
That I harbor no wishes
For the doin' of dishes;
Oh alack! Would my blackness she'd sweeten!

A rich White House hopeful called Trump
Spent millions out on the stump
He would constantly pillory
His opponent called Hillary
And into the White House did jump.

My dream was to be President,
But where dreams go my dream also went.
So I flushed. Let it go.
Watch it circle real slow.
Hear the gurgling and turn on the vent.

There was an electoral college
That spoke of our founders' foreknowledge:
Despite larger centers
(So said our inventors)
Flint, Michigan shall be acknowledged!

All my debt clings with fear on the ride
Though my income’s blown off by the slide.
If the world would end
Around some new bend,
I’d be fine, but there’s nowhere to hide.

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