Vote now for the top reader Limerick limerick

Over the misty mountains cold

in dungeons deep and caverns old

. we must away

. ere break of day

to seek our pale enchanted gold

Sorry, nothing to do with the story but I think the film would have had a different tone if the dwarfs' song on the trailers had been done in limerick form

An epic Limerick or a Limerick Epic

either way, full marks to Bob Duncan.

It kind of reminded me of reading "The Cremation of Sam McGee"

Chris Hunt seems to be the only entrant who can count syllables and understands stress.

Quantity != Quality

I admire Bob's effort for it's length, but bad rhymes (on/own), incorrect rhythm, using the same rhymes multiple times (fail/jail & bad/lad) and the lack of any really clever wordplay means there are far better entries here, in my opinion. I can't understand why it's getting so many votes.

Late to the party

There once was a guardi from Limerick

Whom the crims did complain of in the nik

As when signing papers

All he offered was tater's

when all they really needed was a bic

When forced to sign-in for his bail,

In Limerick nick's poxy gaol,

The penless parolee

Lost all self-control, he

Tried to 'punch-in' instead. Gardai Fail!

Hmm.

.

There was a Gard station in Eire

Whose attitude was churlish and quare

When miscreants came to sign

The form's dotted line

No signing implements were there to share.

.

.

Now the judge he got into a rage

When he saw the blank dots on the page

He ordered the coppers

To act right and proper

To supply the service they reneged

.

.

Afore the judge the very next day

Was a crim who got carried away

The form oh superior

Was shoved up the posterior

Of a cop who the judge had gainsayed.

.

.

Now the moral of this hullabaloo

Should be plain unto me and to you

Keep your hand on your bic

And maybe your p***k

When a cop shop you visit one day

.

.

Right it is a slow day here and I am working from office number 2 (bar). I will get my Sombrero and poncho.

Limerick taboo subjects

From having lived in Limerick for a while, I can say that the one subject more taboo there than gang crime or the nickname "stab city" is five-line light verse.

("Angela's Ashes" is also gets an honourable non-mention.)

El Reg sought submissions poetic,

results proving strongly emetic.

The results failed to please

and brought us to our knees,

as the rhymes were more chthonic than epic.

I noted with evident glee

the limerick contest you see

but more joy was diffused

with each rule abused

why can't anyone use the right fucking meter?