In honor of St. Patrick's Day, I will recap last night's Week 3 residency at the Abbey Lounge in the truest art form that my culture has bestowed upon the world, the dirty limerick:
There once was a show at the Abbey,
The line-up wasn't too shabby.
People had a great time,
Watching bands in their prime.
Do these jeans make my ass look too flabby?
First was a young man named Luke,
Whose success is never a fluke.
He fronts the Good North,
And the songs he put forth,
Were so good that I wanted to puke.
Then came a band from NJ,
These guys really know how to play.
Spiraling was their name.
They're certain for fame,
My pubic hair has started to go gray.
Following that was us, Scamper.
We pulled some old songs from the hamper.
From back in the day,
When Nate wasn't gay,
And Keith wasn't up to his eyeballs in Pampers.
The Nonfamous closed out the night,
With hard rocking power and might.
But the bass player Court,
Was just so damn short.
I tell you, that's shit's just not right.
Okay, so they weren't all that dirty. And I know - most of them didn't really make any sense. But let's see YOU write limericks about a rock show, bitches.
There once was a show at the Abbey,
The line-up wasn't too shabby.
People had a great time,
Watching bands in their prime.
Do these jeans make my ass look too flabby?
First was a young man named Luke,
Whose success is never a fluke.
He fronts the Good North,
And the songs he put forth,
Were so good that I wanted to puke.
Then came a band from NJ,
These guys really know how to play.
Spiraling was their name.
They're certain for fame,
My pubic hair has started to go gray.
Following that was us, Scamper.
We pulled some old songs from the hamper.
From back in the day,
When Nate wasn't gay,
And Keith wasn't up to his eyeballs in Pampers.
The Nonfamous closed out the night,
With hard rocking power and might.
But the bass player Court,
Was just so damn short.
I tell you, that's shit's just not right.
Okay, so they weren't all that dirty. And I know - most of them didn't really make any sense. But let's see YOU write limericks about a rock show, bitches.
9 Comments:
Five limericks. Two swear words. This rock stuff is turning you into a very nice young man.
There once was an asshole named Vin,
Whose cock was the size of a pin,
He smelled like moldy balls
And he licked his own balls
And he was a cock-sucking camel-cunted twat-faced bitch.
Dirty enough for you?
B - Rhyming "balls" with "balls" is a strong play. I don't know why I can't get that kind of immediacy into my songs.
Awesome! But you rhymed 'balls' with 'balls', you appalling cunt.
> But you rhymed 'balls' with 'balls', you appalling cunt.
Yeah, that's another way to put it.
It was a slant rhyme. The English language is very elastic.
Jesus, I am the worst limerick-writer in the history of IBM.
Blogger hates quotation marks, because it's stupid. Other than that, excellent work, Vincenzo.
There once was a lad named Clarke,
Who liked to wank in the park.
He thought of his band
While he stroked with his hand.
But had trouble finding it in the dark.
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