902. Yid kid

When he goes to the whorehouse, Sol Weiss
Gets his money's worth -- he does it twice!
And our boy always picks a
Blonde hooker (a shiksa)
The Jewish ones there aren't too nice.

PD59-61. All clean, all clever

There once was a curate from Kew,
Who kept a black cat in a pew.
He taught it to speak
Alphabetical Greek,
But it never got farther than mu.

There's a wonderful family, Stein.
There's Gertrude, there's Ep, and there's Ein.
Gert's poetry's bunk,
Ep's statues are junk,
And no one can understand Ein.

In the English Post Office the abbreviation for Salisbury is "Sarum"
and that of Hampshire is "Hants."  Say the short versions...
There was a young curate of Salisbury
Whose manners were too halisbury-scalisbury.
He walked about Hampshire
Without any pampshire
'Til the vicar compelled him to walisbury.

You may be wondering how Hampshire could become 'Hants' when it has no 'n.'  Well, Hampshire itself is an abbreviation..... for Hamptonshire.

OP67. He's gone nuts

There was a crazy man named Murdock
Who was found in a state of pure shock
He had murdered his hooker
(Who he thought was a looker)
When he first got a glimpse of her cock.

PD58. Not a limerick...but clever

With his middle name of Wadsworth, you'd kinda expect a parody like this one on Longfellow's The Village Blacksmith.  I think I first heard the following about 50 years ago.

Under the spreading chestnut tree
The village idiot sat.
Amusing himself,
Abusing himself,
And catching the drops in his hat.

901. Public Service Announcement

I'm sorry if this limerick hurts you,
But it's time I wrote one that alerts you
To the wages of sin.
(About 8 dollars 10
To see skin flicks without any virtue.)

900. Peak performance spurned

An old mountain climber named Larry
And a friend scaled the heights to an aerie.
The friend said, "I'll blow ya."
"But I hardly know ya!"
Said Larry, "Besides, I'm no fairy."

899. Undentured servant

While traveling out in the sticks,
I came on a girl 'mongst the hicks
Who'd no teeth.  I did pound her
But mainly, I found her
A consummate sucker of dicks.

Read what you will into line 2...

OP66. Long, low, and a little to the left

Whenever I'm asked "how's it hangin'?"
I insert a joke 'bout my wang in
I tell them "you see
It's foot long, fancy free
And assures me of plenty of bangin'."

898. A Very Merry!

I see that it's now Christmas Eve,
Here's one which I've kept up my sleeve.
Thanks for each comment, post,
And suggestion, but most
Of all, letting me give and receive!

Special thanks to my regular readers and contributors:  OkieJokey, Boulderite, Amanda B. Reckondwith, Dave Reddekopp, and Bob Blanks.  Hmmmm, a total lack of feminine readers...  What should I make of that?

OP65. How does this grab you?/Do you grab this?

Yesterday at a “Dirty Santa” party my gift was one of those nabber devices for getting things from off shelves and behind the ‘fridge.  The present was so lame I thought it needed an equally lame limerick to accompany it.

Have you ever felt need to kvetch
When you’ve put away stuff you can’t fetch?

    “How I wish for,” you rasp,

    “Reach exceeding my grasp!”

What you want is a bit of a stretch.

897. Stress reliever?

When sad, William weeps like a willow
And beats off two times in his pillow!
His cum then gets crusty
And smelling all musty,
Now that is one strange peccadillo.

OP64. No end in sight

Another end of the world limerick, this one's a fresh one.  My last title was better though...

Some fellow had chose to cause friction
By attempting a doomsday prediction
But the end of the world
Is not what unfurled
So the whole thing turned out to be fiction.

896. Fowl play

While romancing a gal in the park,
A guy got shit on by a lark.
Or maybe a squab
Dropped its wet, nasty gob,
How was he to know?  It was dark.

895. What Scot into me?

The muse has been absent of late, but I got an email today announcing the annual Robert Burns Supper on Jan. 26th and just couldn't resist writing this one...

I'll list here a group of celebrities
Who hail from the land near the Hebrides. 
Burns, Hume, Fleming, Bell,
Knox, Carlyle, Boswell.
These aren't the Black Irish (those ebonies.)

Perhaps I was thinking of Ebenezer Scrooge for that last rhyme...

OP63. The end is nah

I came up with this one last year, when Harold Camping predicted the rapture would happen, but as the world is supposed to end again today, I figured the time was right for this one:

A man once predicted the rapture
Many gullible minds did he capture
Though the bible says Jesus
Will come when he pleases
Do I think the whole thing's full of crap? Sure!