1802. Here's to sweeter meter

i LIKE reading LIM'ricks a LOT
eSPEcially WHEN they've a PLOT
But THOSE that don't SCAN
ought be THROWN in the CAN
(also KNOWN as the PORcelain POT.)
Happily, no one in here needs this but several posters at Mad Kane's and Reddit do.

1801. Just sayin'

Ahead of me, hairy lips loom
Those portals that lead to her womb
If I get them to part
She will capture my heart
If I don't, it may lead to her doom.

1800. Noun, now

A Latin professor named Willoughby
At the start of each term passed out syllabi
By about mid-semester
Each student would fester
And just use his copy to kill a bee.

When I took Latin, the plural ending of most masculine nouns (e.g. amici or cacti) was pronounced 'ee.'  It seems to have changed to 'eye.'  However, 'eye' was once how feminine noun plurals (ending ae) were pronounced.  Perhaps another case of 'let's not be gender-specific' occurring in our crazy world?

8/23 Addendum:
Reader Robin Sutherland emailed this after reading my above entry.  He said, 

Alumnæ's like "nigh" -- never "knee."

Alumni's like "knee -- never "nigh."

Our hatches let's batten

With bonafide Latin!

And ne'er wonder how -- only why.

 

Thanks for having my back, Robin!

PD188-192. Rule Britannia!

There once was a faddist of Devon
Who said, "I have raped only seven
Young women to date,
But soon 'twill be eight
And shortly thereafter eleven."

There was a young lady of Gloucester
Whose friends were afraid they had lost her
'Til they found on the grass
The marks of her ass
And the knees of the man who had crossed her.

I dined with Lord Hughing Fitz-Bluing
Who asked, "Do you squirm when you're screwing?"
I replied, "Simple shagging
Without any wagging
Should only be done whilst canoeing."

There once was a girl from Aberystwyth
Who took corn to the mill to make grist with
The miller's son, Jack,
Laid her flat on her back
And united the organs they pissed with.

An organist playing in York
Had a prick that could hold a small fork
And between obbligatos
He'd munch at tomatoes
To keep up his strength while at work.

1799. "Khmer, rubes!"

A Cambodian Commie had shot
Folks whose politics weren't what he sought
The man was neurotic
As well as despotic
No polls were held under Pol Pot.
  This week's contest rhyme-word is 'pot.'

OP198. Dave's not here, man...

...but you may be able to guess where I am.

It's a dubious drug I have bought
Since I tried it, I wish I had not
What would anyone need
With some laxative weed?
Now I can't get myself off the pot.

OP196-197. A mouth-watering meal

Cindy said I should add to the pot
Unique flavors - I gave it a shot
My familiar taste
Is not one she would waste
Now you've guessed it - it's just what you thought.

An acrostic food-related limerick, in response to one of Mad Kane's Facebook posts.  As it also qualifies for this week's Limerick-Off, I've entered it there too.

Only Cindy and I ever knew
What ingredients were in the stew
And the guests, they would savor
And question the flavor
They don't know, but I'm sure you do.

This one's not acrostic, and I just decided to add it now as a second stanza.  It would have qualified for last week's contest.

Dave's acrostic on CUMIN inspired me to write this follow up:

Before you put spice in the pot
Add beef stock but not a whole lot
Sprinkle flour for a roux
In goes salt, pepper too
Lick the spoon, say, "Good gravy!"  (Or not.) 
   -- The Limericist

1798. Pole-ar opposite

Rural boys used to use the word 'cock'
To mean 'pussy!'  Imagine the shock
When one asked in a town,
"Any hot cock aroun'?"
The town toughs called him queer, cleaned his clock.

True!  'Cock' was interchangeable with 'pussy' where I grew up (Ada, OK.)  Males had 'dicks' or 'peters.'  My friends and I used it until at least junior high school and my grandpa (b. 1881) would guffaw when someone mentioned 'Mrs. Glasscock."
One night after lights out while I was in USAF boot camp, a hillbilly from West Virginia said "I wish I had me some hot cock."  "WHAT THE HELL?" rang out loudly from other bunks!

1797. Death math

I spend my days using my pate
To determine when folks will be 'late'
I'm not adversarial
My job's actuarial
You see, at Prudential I rate.
I entered this @ Mad Kane's Limerick-Off when 'rate' (or 'irate') was the rhyme word.

1796. Uno dose trace

Fucked a border town whore on a bet
Three days later, briefs yellow and wet
Now I do not know what
That gal had up her twat
But the discharge and itch I have yet.

PD186-187. Surprise endings

Firm and full in his pants (she HAD checked)      
Bulged the object she yearned to inspect
So her hand slipped inside
To caressingly slide
Out his . . . wallet.  What did you expect?

A magazine writer named Bing
Could make copy from most anything
But the copy he wrote
Of a ten-dollar note
Was so good he now lives in Sing Sing.
Sing Sing is a state prison just north of New York City.

1795. Pæan to the past

In the old days an airliner’s crew
Had a good-looking girl called the stew
Short for “stewardess,” she
Served milk, coffee or tea;
Upon landing (I’ve heard) she might screw!

1794. Caviar emptied

A French marquis in his chateau
Drank wine from grapes grown in his clos
One could oft hear him boast
Of the eggs on his toast
Not from poulets, mais non -- sturgeon roe!

1793. Colon crawlin'

Gay Percy lives life as an herbalist
And he's also a fine cruciverbalist
When the hour is too late
To pick up a hot date
He goes home and has fun as a gerbilist.

1792. Double entendre trouble

Though I fancy myself as a bard
Writing sense-making rhymes can be hard
If you think 'fuck' and 'suck'
Pair up eas'ly with 'duck'
Don't believe it, for it's a canard.