A while ago I promised someone I would post some of my limericks. I'm occasionally true to my word, so here's a few: A martini, ice cold, held aloft Is a sight that I've never scoffed, But the shape of the glass Makes it easy to splash So I've spilled much more than I've quaffed. A young lass from Kansas named Dorothy, Said she wanted a mate who was swarthy; Yet the burlap‑faced strawman, The tin‑colored woodsman, And the auburn‑maned lion weren't worthy. Al Gore stands for me as a mentor; Unflustered by any dissenter, He may not have won, But, son of a gun, He'll always succeed as inventor. An Indian Sikh named Arjuna Had trouble flensing a tuna, Its viscera burst, Beheading a tour’st, And the flesh sank in the laguna. There's a term on a ship when you're sailing For the part that is sort of a railing The word used is "gunwale"; And that rhymes with funnel, Which leaves this son-of-a-gun wailing...
The Italian
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