Is there a finer book on the planet for lazy bloggers and lovers of filthy humor than G. Legman’s The Limerick? I think not.
Previous articles featuring reprints from this indispensable volume have dealt with “Little Romances” and “Organs.” The next chapter is entitled “Strange Intercourse,” but this being Valentine’s Day, let’s skip ahead just a bit to Chapter VIII: “Excrement.” Please do enjoy.
There was a young lady named Ames
Who would play at the jolliest games.
She was great fun to lay
For her rectum would play
Obbligatos, and call you bad names.
When a woman in strapless attire
Found her breasts working higher and higher,
A guest, with great feeling,
Exclaimed, “How appealing!
Do you mind if I piss in the fire?”
There was a young fellow named Bart
Who strained every shit through a fart.
Each tip-tapered turd
Was the very last word
In this deft and most intricate art.
A nasty young joker named Bruce
Used to greet all his friends with a goose,
Till it came to a stop
In a handful of flop
From some bowels that were terribly loose.
The selection was tough, I admit,
But it did not dismay him one bit,
Then, with ass thrown aloft
He suddenly coughed . . .
And collapsed in a shower of shit.
Is that some inspirational poetry or is that some inspirational fucking poetry? It’s even inspired me to take a whack at it myself. Here’s my own modest contribution to the “Excrement” chapter:
A busty young woman was sitting
With a cotton tube-top she’d been knitting
When she threw such a fit
—It was too small for her tits!—
So she used it to wipe after shitting.
How’s that for just pulling it out of my ass?