Irish Limericks at The Irish Gift House
Limericks originated in the Irish town of Limerick and variants can be traced to the fourteenth century. Limericks consist of five anapestic lines, the pattern of the rhyme is a - a - b - b – a.
Lines 1, 2, and 5 of Limericks have seven to ten syllables and rhyme with one another.
Lines 3 and 4 of Limericks have five to seven syllables and also rhyme with each other.
Typically the content of Limericks can often border on the indecent, the dirty, or even the obscene, but they make people laugh! Limericks are easy to remember and are short so no great talent is necessary to compose one. Limericks are a form of poetry that everyone feels happy to try (especially when inebriated).
There was a young lady of Cork,
Whose Pa made a fortune in pork.
He bought for his daughter,
A tutor who taught her,
To balance green peas on her fork.
I need a front door for my hall,
The replacement I bought was too tall.
So I hacked it and chopped it,
And carefully lopped it,
And now the dumb thing is too small.
There was an odd fellow named Gus,
When traveling he made such a fuss.
He was banned from the train,
Not allowed on a plane,
And now travels only by bus.
There was a young schoolboy of Rye,
Who was baked by mistake in a pie.
To his mother’s disgust,
He emerged through the crust,
And exclaimed, with a yawn, Where am I?
An elderly man called Keith,
Mislaid his set of false teeth.
They'd been laid on a chair,
He'd forgot they were there,
Sat down, and was bitten beneath.
There was a young lady of Kent,
Whose nose was most awfully bent.
She followed her nose,
One day, I suppose,
And no one knows which way she went.
If you’re lacking a little good cheer,
Go and tickle a bull in the rear.
For I’m sure that the rumor,
That they’ve no sense of humor,
Is a product of ignorant fear.
There was a young girl from Rabat
Who had triplets: Nan, Pat, and Tat.
It was fun in the breeding,
but hell in the feeding,
as she found she had no tit for Tat.
A young gourmet dining at Crewe,
Found a rather large mouse in his stew.
Said the waiter, Don't shout,
And wave it about,
Or the rest will be wanting one, too.
There was a young lady named Rose,
Who had a large wart on her nose.
When she had it removed,
Her appearance improved,
But her glasses slipped down to her toes.
There was an old drunkard of Devon,
Who died and ascended to Heaven
But he cried, this is Hades-
There are no naughty ladies,
And the pubs are all shut by eleven.
A circus performer named Brian,
Once smiled as he rode on a lion.
They came back from the ride,
But with Brian inside,
And the smile on the face of the lion.
Amazingly, antelope stew,
Is supposedly better for you.
Than a goulash of rat,
Or Hungarian cat,
But I guess that something you knew.
There once was a young man called Kyle,
who worked at the circus a while.
He flew through the air,
with hardly a care,
and that's why his body's in a pile.
Is it me or the nature of money,
That's odd and particularly funny.
But when I have dough,
It goes quickly, you know,
And seeps out of my pockets like honey.
There was an old man of Peru,
Who dreamt he was eating his shoe.
He woke in the night,
With a terrible fright,
And found it was perfectly true.
There was a young lady of Lynn,
Who was so uncommonly thin
That when she essayed
To drink lemonade
She slipped through the straw and fell in.
There was a young lady of Nice,
Who insisted on bathing in grease.
She slid through the house
Tormenting her spouse
Til he hid in the oven for peace.
There was an old man named Bill
Who swallowed a nuclear pill
The doctor said cough
And that darn thing went off
And they found his head in Brazil
Saint Patrick would have never believed
How his memory would become perceived
In the Emerald Isle
They do it in style
With green outfits, green hats and green sleeves
There once was an old man of Esser,
Whose knowledge grew lesser and lesser,
It at last grew so small
He knew nothing at all
And now he's a college professor.
The following Limericks were submitted by friends of The Irish Gift House
There once was a man named Profaci
Who cooked all his food on a Hibachi
One day the food burned
And then the man learned
And moved up his Hibachi a notchi
Limericks are supposed to be fun
But I still can't seem to write one
I rather prefer haikus
There's nothing to lose
But I'd be over the moon if I won
The Irish Gift House is great
They're the real deal, not fake
I went in for a glance
and I near wet my pants
for they even had Tayto and Flake
I went to the pub for a drink
A man said its Patty's day I think
SO I pinched his arm
I really meant no harm
But now I'm sitting in the clink
There once was a lass named Pat
Who had three sons name Matt, Nat and Tat
Well, there was fun in the breeding
But when it came time for the feeding
She found there was no tit for Tat
A GIRL JOINED A MEN'S TEAM FOR LUCK
SHE WAS HOPING TO MEET A YOUNG BUCK
SHE THOUGHT "WOW MY NIGHT'S GONNA BE GOOD"
BUT SHE MISUNDERSTOOD
WHEN SHE HEARD HIM YELL "WATCH OUT FOR THE PUCK"
THERE ONCE WAS A WOMAN WITH A PLAN
NO IT WASN'T TO GET HER A MAN
HER MAIN FOCUS, HER CAUSE
TO GET THROUGH MENOPAUSE
SO SHE COULD FINALLY TURN OFF THE FAN!
There once was a man in A-Z
Who was as Irish as one can be.
It has often been told
That he liked to spend his gold
At The Irish Gift Shop here in Tempe!
They say Patrick’s a Norse a Viking of course
But he left his dear homeland of Sweden
To live with the snakes
In the Isle of Lakes
In his life and his death he had Eden
So Kerry and Andrew reached out
for some limericks here and about
but they never expected
to get so connected
with such an incorrigible lout!
It's fun to be Italian and Irish
Every dinner Nonna makes is delish
Your Gramps buys you beer
Your home's full of good cheer
For what more could anyone wish?
Shamrocks or four leaf -clovers are green,
To be found is something rarely seen.
They bring you good luck!
But not if you’re a duck!
Only works on fairies and human beans!
There once was a Leprechaun from Dublin.
Whose name was McFinnigan McFin!
He hoarded his gold,
Or so we’ve been told
And left nothing for the rest of his kin.
There once was a teacher from New York.
Who liked to eat Irish taters with a fork!
Said her Irish student, Maureen,
“You eat Irish taters, so clean”
I must admit you are kind of a dork.
Oh lordy to be a man, natural born Irish!
There really is nothing like it!
A true “brown bred” tater.
For, a man nothing greater.
Oh yeah, except for the she’s and to date her!
There once was a lad from Doon,
Who owned a singing baboon,
And when folks walked past,
They would let out a gasp,
As he sang them their favourite tune!!!!!
There once was a young man named Phil
Who had a puppy named Bill.
When asked, "Does he bite?"
Phil answered, "He might."
Then the puppy named Bill bit Phil.