Sesquipedalian, sounds like an alien
Syllables trailing from your tongue like a train
Seems like you'd rather leave words in a lather
Forming like foam from the rain in your brain
Eye's water, this slaughter of discourse dissection
Is deserving of mid-course correction at least
If only your colleagues could change the direction
Of this Grand Panjandrum in pedantical feast
Freely admit am more than a bit of a Test cricket junkie
VIP pass doff for punky class of Bazball’s start so spunky
Revel in rocking devil may care peacocking flair so funky
But when stuttered became rather cluttered and clunky
Then Ben not with his men again is still a cheeky monkey
Iffy getting squiffy forgot curfew & in a jiffy all got gunky
Palaver in a lather farce of toff ECB job & gob of slob Key
Smelt wrong the pong not dope has felt old school skunky
Hunky stallion did quaff the trough now rapscallion donkey
Scoff not bob on plunky fob off dob em in for being a flunky
Got a cob on Baz a show off ar*e & Rob chubby and chunky
Sob should burn on the hob as each other’s jail bit*h bunkie
Turn the door k*ob in lob Baz & Bob then Ben lose the key
Blazing humidity & amazing stupidity
In a lather the palaver rather pathetic
Erasing hopes fans gazing splenetic
Starc’s all round pink ball cupidity
Never clever with willow or leather
Wide wild wafts at end of our tether
Snicked off again just a little feather
Helter skeltering in sweltering weather
The Aussies strengths of line & lengths
Our bowlers retort let’s go wide & short
Flopped blame copped catches dropped
No defense or pretence was just nonsense
Not just below par couldn’t wouldn’t spar
Which is why we say ta ra and au revoir
To the Ashes at our bete noir “the Gabbatoir”
Of Tetley's and V-2's
(or, “Why Not to Bomb the Brits if it Interferes with their Tea”)
by Michael R. Burch
The English are very hospitable,
but tea-less, alas, they grow pitiable ...
or pitiless, rather,
and quite in a lather!
O bother, they're more than formidable!
Keywords/Tags: limerick, light poetry, light verse, nonsense verse, humor, humorous, England, English, Tetley, tea, milk, crumpets, scones, war, bomb, bombs, V-2, rocket, missile, missiles, formidable, Britain, Brits, defense, military, defiance, resilience, resistance, courage, conflict, Battle of Britain
What is Late?
Written: by Miracle Man
11-20-2019
I have a real problem,
that’s keeping me in a lather.
My awake time is spent,
listening to cat blather.
I’m forced to expedite,
everywhere that we go.
Because the woman I married,
is some kind of slow.
I like early arrivals,
but we’re invariably late.
Just can’t seem to get her,
from the starting gate.
To me it seems simple,
if always late, leave sooner.
Quit forcing me,
to be a “please hurry” crooner.
For Doctor appointments,
I arrive unduly stressed.
Even to church on Sunday,
for time we’re pressed.
Those times when I’m upset,
Perhaps like the mad hatter.
I keep telling myself,
if you don’t mind, it won’t matter.
She says she’ll try harder,
but she remains unchanged.
I know she must think,
that I’m permanently deranged.
So I’ve come to accept,
that it will always be her manner.
But always being late,
makes things hard for the planner.
But I still love my Sweetie!
Of Tetley’s and V-2's
(or, “Why Not to Bomb the Brits”)
by Michael R. Burch
The English are very hospitable,
but tea-less, alas, they grow pitiable ...
or pitiless, rather,
and quite in a lather!
O bother, they're more than formidable.
what is there about a fire-
like a summons calling hither
draws us ever onward-
in a lather or a dither?
what can it be-
that leads us forthright
such as millers to a porchlight?
tell me what it is-
that tantalizes,mesmerizes
what's so cool about a fire?
The Soup kitchen's queue are in line .
The economy , banjaxed and dyin' .
When Lehmans went bust
The bankers just cussed
So now , " Buddy who can spare a dime " ?.
I called up my banker , by chance .
With an invite to the " Poor Peoples " dance .
He came dressed in rags
With two plastic bags
And the ass missing , from his old pants .
No Ferraris or Mercs to be seen .
For between us , we hadn't a bean .
The soup it was cold
And the bread , it had mould
And Seamus the Chef , was a " Queen " .
The dessert trolly started to shake .
Baked Alaskas were fried like a steak .
Amid all the wailin'
In strolled Sarah Palin
" Vote me in and I'll give you a break " .
I awoke in a lather of sweat
At the characters I had just met .
With a sad sorry weep
I went straight to sleep.
"Snore it off , Seán , that's as good as 'twill get .
Perspired by Carolyn's , Limerick contest ....
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