Happy to be alive how about you
I'm long past my youth by double-d-do
Hope you're well
You still don't smell
People at the opera fart lumps do you?
as much as she whipped
never could get the lumps out
meal time at Grandma's
Santa once took an elf for a ride on his sleigh
The elf sat on Santa's lap an unusual way
Santa felt a big lump
Thought he'd sat on a stump
And we now have a Santa who's gay
Funny Holiday Limerick Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
11/17/2022
A fellow from the south of South Africa
Waltzed around in a skirt made of taffeta
Some thought he was strange
With his long curly mane
A lump in his trunks proved him male to the maxima
Kapok, re-re-restuffed,
still lumpy, still stiff.
Seams mended,
by needle, by tape,
re-re-again.
No no one here,
yet.
Still me me,
again.
Thoughts,
unscolded,
atop this old
zafu.
Guess what we had today... yup, white lumpy rain
Don't dare use the s-word, too early in the game
My psyche can't handle it
Probably cause me a fit
Canadian winters can sure give me a dirty big pain
© Jack Ellison 2015
A fellow from the south of South Africa
Waltzed around in a skirt made of taffeta
Some thought he was strange
With his long curly mane
A lump in his trunks proved him male to the maxima
© Jack Ellison 2015
Lumpy Rumpy, now a high school lad,
I'm afraid is still acting very bad,
In his school laboratory he did amass,
Some stinking, self-made, rotten egg gas.
He corked it up in a chemistry vial,
Then down the town, he strolled for a while,
Choosing a site, the local paper shop,
He went in with the vial and took the top off.
He hid it behind a large magazine rack,
Waiting outside for the putrid gas attack,
In three minutes flat the shop emptied out,
People holding their noses as they ran about.
The fire brigade called, putting masks on,
To find the rotten aroma, so very strong,
Finally the brigade captain emerged holding the vial,
Lumpy grinned to himself,
Another prank done with such style.
Lumpy Rumpy, a rather large lad,
Had a reputation for being so bad,
He rolled a mega barrel down the hill,
Full of dead fish and the content spill.
The reeking aroma made people sad,
With pegs on their noses they got so mad,
The townsfolk chased Lumpy down the street,
If they catch him up they might paddle his seat.
I Spy Something Lumpy (or what I learned on the web today)
Somewhere in the Poconos
A lady was arrested
Her hiding place for heroin
Let’s say was double breasted
170 little bags
Somehow she did hide
For those of you math challenged
That’s 85 per side
Now I’m no fashionista
But even I can tell
85 bags of anything
And a bra will surely swell
So when cops pulled her over
She didn’t stand a chance
She might not have been so busted
Had she hid them in her pants
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