I think I'll go for a walk
To myself I shall mutter and talk
I'll search high and low
And home I'll not go
Till I find the poem I sought

Shocking how the time goes
Like a river it flows and flows
It just disappears
Days become years
Where does it go, do you knows?

He found a rock, the geologist
Whose identity he missed
He thought it was gneiss
But when he looked twice
It was just a piece of schist

They found a bug to eat plastic
Which everyone thought was fantastic
But they started to frown
When their pants fell down
Because it ate the elastic

There was a young man from Zagreb
Whose pencil ran out of lead
He went to the quack
Whose answer to that
Was use a biro instead

There was a vicar from the Tyne
Who put all his sermons online
A woman wrote please,
I'm weak at the knees
Here's my address, what's thine?

The Prime Minister went for a walk
Invited a woman to talk
She said  "If you want a bang you can jolly well scram"
He said  Do you know who I am?"

I met a priest from Guyana
Who's fond of his marijuana
He says even the Pope
Stashes some dope
He calls it a gift from the Father

As a young girl she was grumpy
All the boys thought she was dumpy
Then she got fit -
Here's the best bit -
Now she runs for her country!

There was a pirate who came from afar
Who sank his ship for a h'penny o' tar
He had a scar on his cheek,
Gold in his teeth
And like Prabhu, a thing for the noir

There was a vicar from Kent
Who gave up religion for lent
He enjoyed a spree
Of being un-holy
Nobody knows where he went

For the tourists to impress
She wore traditional dress
She liked the grass skirt
And the flowery shirt
But the coconut bra caused distress

One of the tourists she knew
Was really enjoying the view
He bought her a drink
Tickled her pink
And said may I remove it for you?

The limerick man was on top
He was writing such a lot
The barrel he dredged
He lost his edge
And didn't know when to stop

When the words don't seem to fit                                                     
When the spot they just don't hit 
I re-visit my friend                                              
Shake him again                            
Good old Mr Limerick                                       


There is a young woman from Dunbar                     
Who jogs but never too far
She carries a snickers                                                   
Insid­e her knickers                                                        
­And a mars bar in her bra                                            


-Stretch limo-
So much length it had gained                                      
To drive it was really a pain                                        
So they put on the wheels                                            
Tyres of steel                                                            ­                               
And turned it into a train                                             


Mesmerised for a while
By those eyes which so beguile
The men she meets
Fall at her feet
But why such sadness in her smile?


A pretty young thing from Milan
Had a beautiful tan
She enticed married men
Into loving again
And then the **** hit the fan


She used to be happy, fulfilled and carefree
As wild as white horses out on the sea
Now she's no fun
What has become
Of the girl she used to be

Their vows they made, he kissed her
He couldn't now resist her
Then later on he said so long
I should have married your sister

She said I love you Billy
And asked for something silly
To prove you love me
There's no one above me
Tattoo my name on your *****

There are plenty of fish in the sea
At least there used to be
But now there are not
We've got to stop
And let them recover you see

It's big boys and their toys
Highway cruising poise
But oh dear,
Cover your ears
What a blinkin noise!

He wheeled it out with pride
Took it  for a ride
Cornered too quick,
Felt it slip
And pranged his Electra Glide

He promised that pretty soon
A man would land on the moon
They didn't quite make it
So he told them to fake it
It was harder than he'd presumed

There was a poet who suffered a lot
From what we all know as writers block
He lifted his pen, dropped it again
And that's as far as he got

His expertise was knots
His profession to garrotte
If his wife should say
"Did you have a good day?"
The conversation stopped

There was a magician from Bath
I couldn't help but laugh-
While performing his magic
His act turned quite tragic-
He sawed his assistant in half

An Eskimo in an igloo
Wrote a poem or two
But he couldn't get
The internet
So nobody ever knew