S
spinoza1111
OK. Let's start with some original Limericks, written this evening by
me for you, dear heart.
There is a "Colonel" named Sanders
Who said, das ist eine Anders
He's so unlike a normal jerk
That to bring him down shall be my work
So Sprache that phony Colonel named Sanders.
There is a rube named Harlan
Who said to his ex-wife, Darlin',
The child support check is gonna be late
I lost my job haulin' freight,
That clueless rube named Harlan.
There is a guy, whose rank is Colonel
On his head he wears a funnel:
He is prone to delusions
Fits, starts, brown studies and confusions,
That pathetic fool whose rank is Colonel.
Perhaps you'd like a Clerihew?
Harlan Sanders
Don't like grandstanders,
Trolls and people who are
Smarter than he, by far.
Hows about some heroic couplets?
And Lo, a missive from the Colonel of some Regiment
Full of what he supposes is fine and normal Sentiment,
Cautionubf all who listen to take condign Heed
Not to listen to Spinoza, he says there is no Need.
This is a man who prizes Silence, and thinks the silent to be strong
Words irritate him and any Text that is to him overlong.
He won't be taxed, by Cracky, by gosh, Tarnation and by Gum
He'll muster up a Jacquerie and from the woodshed, he'll get his gun
A Blunder Buss or Brownish Bess from the French and Indian wars
Which he spent drilling on the Commons to the taunts and hoots of
Whores.
He'll march his Troop of addled Lads to the Castle of ill Fame
He'll have it out for once and all, to Spinoza he'll bring shame!
But when he mocks and when he rants 'tis to him that Fortune is most
cruel:
For his repeated postings are clearly the Phillipics of the Phool!
me for you, dear heart.
There is a "Colonel" named Sanders
Who said, das ist eine Anders
He's so unlike a normal jerk
That to bring him down shall be my work
So Sprache that phony Colonel named Sanders.
There is a rube named Harlan
Who said to his ex-wife, Darlin',
The child support check is gonna be late
I lost my job haulin' freight,
That clueless rube named Harlan.
There is a guy, whose rank is Colonel
On his head he wears a funnel:
He is prone to delusions
Fits, starts, brown studies and confusions,
That pathetic fool whose rank is Colonel.
Perhaps you'd like a Clerihew?
Harlan Sanders
Don't like grandstanders,
Trolls and people who are
Smarter than he, by far.
Hows about some heroic couplets?
And Lo, a missive from the Colonel of some Regiment
Full of what he supposes is fine and normal Sentiment,
Cautionubf all who listen to take condign Heed
Not to listen to Spinoza, he says there is no Need.
This is a man who prizes Silence, and thinks the silent to be strong
Words irritate him and any Text that is to him overlong.
He won't be taxed, by Cracky, by gosh, Tarnation and by Gum
He'll muster up a Jacquerie and from the woodshed, he'll get his gun
A Blunder Buss or Brownish Bess from the French and Indian wars
Which he spent drilling on the Commons to the taunts and hoots of
Whores.
He'll march his Troop of addled Lads to the Castle of ill Fame
He'll have it out for once and all, to Spinoza he'll bring shame!
But when he mocks and when he rants 'tis to him that Fortune is most
cruel:
For his repeated postings are clearly the Phillipics of the Phool!