Лимерики

LIMERICKS

There was an old man of Tobago,
Who lived upon rice, gruel and sago;
Till, much to his bliss,
His physician said this:
"To a leg, sir, of mutton, you may go."

There was an old soldier of Bister,
Went walking one day with his sister;
When a cow, at one poke,
Tossed her into an oak,
Before the old gentleman missed her.

There was a young man of St. Kitts
Who was very much troubled with fits;
The eclipse of the moon
Threw him into a swoon,
When he tumbled and broke into bits.

There was an old man who said, "Gee!
I can't multiply seven by three!
Though fourteen seems plenty,
It might come to twenty,—
I haven't the slightest idee!"

There was an old man in a pie,
Who said, "I must fly! I must fly!"
When they said, "You can't do it!"
He replied that he knew it,
But he had to get out of that pie!

A Tutor who tooted the flute
Tried to teach two young tooters to toot;
Said the two to the Tutor,
"Is it harder to toot, or
To tutor two tooters to toot?"

Carolyn Wells.

RECITED BY A CHINESE INFANT

If-itty-teshi-mow Jays
Haddee ny up-plo-now-shi-buh nays;
ha! ha!
He lote im aw dow,
Witty motti-fy flow;
A-flew-ty ho-lot-itty flays! Hee!

Translation

Infinitesimal James
Had nine unpronounceable names;
He wrote them all down,
With a mortified frown,
And threw the whole lot in the flames.


For beauty I am not a star,
There are others more handsome by far;
But my face I don't mind it,
For I am behind it,
It's the people in front that I jar.

There was a young lady of Oakham,
Who would steal your cigars and then soak 'em
In treacle and rum,
And then smear them with gum,
So it wasn't a pleasure to smoke 'em.

There was an Old Man in a tree
Who was horribly bored by a bee;
When they said, "Does it buzz?"
He replied, "Yes, it does!
It's a regular brute of a bee."

Edward Lear.

There was an Old Man of St. Bees
Who was stung in the arm by a wasp.
When asked, "Does it hurt?"
He replied, "No, it doesn't,
But I thought all the while 'twas a hornet."

W. S. Gilbert.

There was an old man of the Rhine,
When asked at what hour he would dine,
Replied, "At eleven,
Four, six, three and seven,
And eight and a quarter of nine."

There was a young man of Laconia,
Whose mother-in-law had pneumonia;
He hoped for the worst,
And after March first
They buried her 'neath a begonia.

There was a young man of the cape
Who always wore trousers of crepe;
When asked, "Don't they tear?"
He replied, "Here and there;
But they keep such a beautiful shape."

There once were some learned M.D.'s,
Who captured some germs of disease,
And infected a train,
Which without causing pain,
Allowed one to catch it with ease.

Oliver Herford.

There was a young lady of Lynn,
Who was deep in original sin;
When they said, "Do be good,"
She said, "Would if I could!"
And straightway went at it ag'in.

I'd rather have fingers than toes;
I'd rather have ears than a nose;
And as for my hair
I'm glad it's all there,
I'll be awfully sad when it goes.

Gelett Burgess.

There was a young fellow named Clyde;
Who was once at a funeral spied.
When asked who was dead,
He smilingly said,
"I don't know,—I just came for the ride!"

There was a young lady of Truro,
Who wished a mahogany bureau;
But her father said, "Dod!
All the men on Cape Cod
Couldn't buy a mahogany bureau!"

There was a young man of Ostend
Who vowed he'd hold out to the end,
But when halfway over
From Calais to Dover,
He done what he didn't intend—

There was a young man of Cohoes,
Wore tar on the end of his nose;
When asked why he done it,
He said for the fun it
Afforded the men of Cohoes.

Robert J. Burdette.

There is a young artist called Whistler,
Who in every respect is a bristler;
A tube of white lead,
Or a punch on the head,
Come equally handy to Whistler.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

There is a creator named God,
Whose doings are sometimes quite odd;
He made a painter named Val,
And I say and I shall,
That he does no great credit to God.

J. M. Whistler.

There was a young lady of station,
"I love man!" was her sole exclamation;
But when men cried, "You flatter!"
She replied, "Oh, no matter!
Isle of Man, is the true explanation."

Lewis Carroll.

There was a young lady of Twickenham,
Whose shoes were too tight to walk quick in 'em;
She came back from her walk,
Looking white as a chalk,
And took 'em both off and was sick in 'em.

Oliver Herford.

"It's a very warm day," observed Billy.
"I hope that you won't think it silly
If I say that this heat
Makes me think 'twould be sweet
If one were a coolie in Chile!"

Tudor Jenks.

There was a young man from Cornell,
Who said, "I'm aware of a smell,
But whether it's drains
Or human remains,
I'm really unable to tell."

There was a young lady from Joppa,
Whose friends all decided to drop her;
She went with a friend
On a trip to Ostend,—
And the rest of the story's improper.

There once was a sculptor named Phidias,
Whose statues by some were thought hideous;
He made Aphrodite
Without any nighty,
Which shocked all the ultra-fastidious.

John woke on Jan. first and felt queer;
Said, "Crackers I'll swear off this year!
For the lobster and wine
And the rabbit were fine,—
And it certainly wasn't the beer."

There was a young lady of Venice
Who used hard-boiled eggs to play tennis;
When they said, "You are wrong,"
She replied, "Go along!
You don't know how prolific my hen is!"

There was a young man of Fort Blainey,
Who proposed to his typist named Janey;
When his friends said, "Oh, dear!
She's so old and so queer!"
He replied, "But the day was so rainy!"