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| Another 69 or so Limericks 1 Dedication Here’s to Miss Josephine Gabbler, An adventurous sexual dabbler. As the Belge family head She had a huge bed Where the daring young rousers would rabble’r. 2 Most of the famous Belge bairn Were laid near the church in a cairn. But more than a few Got laid in a pew-- We Belges were naught, if not dare’n. 3 We lived in the town of Big Blarnee, Renowned for our Chili Con Carnie, Which causes the lasses And lads to pass gasses That could blow us from here to Kilarney. 4 In our town was a clown, Big Enabler. He made us believe we were abler Than we actually were By means of liqueur And a substance that made us unstabler. 5 Our Guv’nor, Ol’ General Bib, Made jokes that were sexually glib. We humored his humor Then pulled down his bloomer. How's that for a leg-pulling rib? 6 Our irascible Judge, Ben A. Gerbil, Tried unguents, both store-bought and herbal. Now, here’s a surprise: He came to a rise When his spouse’s abuses got verbal. 7 Our Sheriff was Gabriel Ben. His jailhouse was built like The Pen; His deputy, Sunny, A centerfold Bunny; His cell, an iniquitous den. 8 The guard in our jail, Barbie Glen, Drank the ink from the Governor’s pen. For a con without pardon Is likely to harden And hard was how Glen liked her men. 9 Our man on the force, Ernie Glabb, Preferred to cop women with flab. When asked for the reason, He said, “When I’m squeezin’ I like to have plenty to grab.” 10 Our corpulent nun, Erin Gabble Beat Ernie quite often… at Scrabble. Then she’d pray by the brook Where he took her to fook And drown out her Biblical babble. 11 Ben Gabriel stood as our preacher But he harbored a devilish feature. Like a creature possessed, He was more than obsessed With nailing the Sunday school teacher. 12 When she told him he never would bang her He succumbed to a weird Bible Anger, Where if you wed out of kind Or screwed from behind He would slam the Good Book on your wanger. 13 Outside town there’s an old Bible Range— A Stonehenge where Zealots exchange Their bodily fluids Like misguided Druids-- The fruits of their loins are most strange. 14 A shriveled old Wiccan, Lee Barbing Was evicted by prudes as a harbing- er of doom, but ka-boom! They gave back her room When she publicly started disgarbing. 15 A god fearing Jew, Rabbi Gleen, Held services gentiles found keen. He read from the Torah Then lit a Menorah And shined it where light’s never been. 16 The Proctology Doctor, Blaine Berg, Was expert in sexual erg- Onomics, you see, But his wee-wee was wee. How’s that for a big fat kick in the head? 17 Our Coroner, Miss Ilene Grabb, Preferred to have sex on a slab. For a stiff with a stiff Made love in a jiff And was rather unlikely to blab. 18 The schoolmarm in town, Gabbie Lern, Made pupils that failed take their turn At cutting out stencils And sharpening pencils And acts that should cause some concern. 19 A student in town, Blair G. Been, Looked twenty but really was ten. She went to the College Of Hard Knox for knowledge, Both book-learned and carnal, of men. 20 A self-fashioned Princess, Brin Beagle, Stood proud on her yacht, acting regal. Oh so royal and brave To the shoreline she’d wave— Until she got soiled by a Seag’ll. 21 Our town’s only postman, Ben Ailberg, Had objects of love in his mailberg Which he stuffed into boxes Of comely young foxes— Well, he did, but just now he’s a jailberg. 22 Our goldsmith in town, Arbee Bling, Had gemstones that made the belles sing. They’d go to his store And make like a whore In hopes that he’d give them a ring. 25 The village’s barber, Abe Berling, Was a wiz at mustachio twirling. His pole had a stripe And so did the pipe Outside of his shop, see it whirling? 26 Our man at the switchboard, Neil Gabber, Connected the perverts who’d blabber On the phone about sex (Those phony old wrecks) While Gabber got off on their jabber. 27 Our honey man, Mister Bee Blaring, Got housewives to buzz him by swearing, Your bathroom won’t stink If you straddle the sink While your septum gets pumped by thrust bearing. 28 Near town lived a squaw, Angel Bribe, That wanted her own little tribe. But her bravehearted buck Was too drunk to F***; An Injun should never imbibe. 29 There was no one in town any skinnier Than attorney at law, Ebb G. Linear. From his foot to his bean To the thing in between, Mister Linear couldn’t be thinnier. 30 Our Barkeep was Arnie B. Bleg. He inserted his dick in a keg. It filled up his crotch. He tapped it. Kersplotch! He drowned in the beer laden smeg… ma. 31 A dancer at clubs, Bebe Raling, Bestraddled her pole. Without failing The men matched her rhythm ‘Til jet streams of jizzum To the flailing Miss Raling went sailing. 32 A gymnast from town, Miss Brie Bangle, Got caught in a terrible tangle— After too many splits The place where she sits Was somewhat obtuse in the angle. 33 Brie’s Doctor was old Ebbie Gnarl. He pondered her snatch with a snarl. He licked at his lips, And the lips by her hips— Believe me, she gave him no quar’l. 34 Our peddler of fish, Bela Bering, Took her sister on voyages daring. They’d hunt like a shark On the lake after dark For fisherman they would be sharing. 35 Her lover and twin, Elba Bering, Like the shrimp that they caught, preferred pairing For life and she prayed For a fisher who stayed, But her creel, so they say, stank of herring. 36 The slut about town was Babe Linger. She fancied herself quite a singer. She belted duets And people and pets. Her hum was more fun than her dinger. (Whatever that means) 37 Babe’s bastard was also Babe Linger. One night, Baby threaded his Singer And stitched up his crotch Leaving only a notch For his hand-fasted spouse, Lady Finger. 38 A shop-keep in town, Gabe Berlin, Enticed the young Babe to within. He gave him some S’mores And bolted the doors And swore they were just playing gin. 39 A towering man, Babel Reign, Was considered, by ladies, a bane. ‘Til he built them a pedestal And gave them all hedestal, Since then, they refrain from disdain. 40 The village boutique, Be-Line Garb, Made panties from hemp and rhu-barb. Their Jacques Straps du Pot Were cool and yet hot When smoked through a bhang with a carb. 41 A Gypsy man, Ben Ali Gerb, Had a magical, mystical herb. One taste of his hooch And you humped like a pooch. Twas a bitch of a habit to curb. 42 Our florist was Lady Lin Berbage. She was proud of her grown-at-home herbage. But a puff of her weed Would make one concede Miss Berbage’s herbage was gerbage. 43 An itinerant bum, Abel Binger Had never once lifted a finger. Until the fine day A gal came his way That taught him to swing like a swinger. 44 His masochist cuz, Bela Binger, Will pay you in cash to infring’r. A pound for a pound If you bang her around-- A crown and a half if you singe her. 45 A fun loving gal, Gina Berbel, Thought nothing of boffing a gerbil. She could stuff in her hole A weasel or mole. Her crotch was amazingly durble. 46 A salve made in town, Gerbil Bane, Was prescribed for relief from the pain You get from the mole That enters your hole And works its way up to your brain. 47 They say that the tits on Nel Gabbier, Had grown to be even more flabbier Than the tits of a cow; And I’ll tell you right now, That her crotch could not get any crabbier. 48 A problem in town, Nibble Rage, Occurs when a chump must assuage His passion for sex By biting the necks Of whores he can’t schtup on his wage. 49 An immigrant whore, Bali Bergen, Was Islander and Luxembourgen. She garnished some praise For Bali Hai leis And laurels for Franco-Belge fergen. 50 In a game that we called Johnny Rebbing, Our Civil War buff, old Earl Ebbing Entrapped a damn Yankee And made hanky panky— He did it with cunning and webbing. 51 Our official town pastime, Beer Baling, Was a cross between curling and sailing. We drained all the kegs Of foam, beer and dregs, Then rolled in the hay uncurtailing. 52 Another town sport, Barbing Eel, Kept gentlefolk on an odd keel. A girl kissed some fishes While making three wishes. The boy with his rod made them reel. 53 Our quarterback, crazy Bear Bingle, Once went to a Cheerleader Mingle. He dangled his dingle At girls that were single While belting the words to this jingle— Drink home bottled brew, Ebbin Lager. The malt you can use for defogger. The world’s as it should be, Like after a good pee; Turns ugly to good, And putty to wood. Drink home bottled brew, Ebbin Lager. Drink home bottled brew, Ebbin Lager. The clogger, the frogger, the jogger, The guy with the lumber, The gal with your number, The lawyer, the plumber, The vixen called Hummer, Drink home bottled brew, Ebbin Lager. 54 The sister of Bear, Bera Bingle, Had lovers, both married and single. She farkled them all From the fat to the small-- She once was a Ho for Kris Kringle. 55 The sister of Bera, Reba Bingle Was expert at making boys tingle. She would giggle and flirt As they felt up her skirt Where pleasure and danger commingle. 56 To town came a Briton, Glen Barbie, Who diddled his jock, but then far be It for me to make judgments You see my begrudgement’s That my jock kept losing the Darby. 57 Lord Barbie’s new jock, Bégin Blare, Rode nude on a diapered mare. He knew that a canter Would surely de-pant her, Thus Bégin could ride her back, bare. 58 Our prize-winning stud, Belgian Reb, Had mounted our nag, Dirty Deb. He nuzzled her neck. She bit him, by heck. So, we auctioned her off on the web. 59 Our pole-vaulting star, Bernie Blag, Had vaulted his brother in drag Then turned on his sister Bedecked like a mister Who ran up his pole like a flag. 60 A boxer we dubbed Ragin’ Bleeb. Turned out to be worse than a dweeb. The man was so weak And dickless and meek, He was beat in the ring by a plebe. 61 In our Zoo, was a huge Baleen Brig, Where whales were compelled to do trig. To prove they had smarts They did Morse code in farts, But said they would much rather frig. 62 The guide at our Zoo, Beri Bengal, Told tales of the Afrikaan Jengal Where she went on the loose Like the silliest goose And had gaggles of ganders to wrengal. 63 Our columnist, Miss Gibber Lane, Spread gossip like so much wild grain. Now she’s told what you do Alone with your shoe, You had better go home and explain. 64 Our egg farming man, e. e. rabbling, Was known for poetical dabbling. He would choke out bad verse But his chicken fared worse— For his verse at its worst went on gabbling. 65 A farmer near town, Beaner Glib, Heard faeries speak thus at his crib, We enchanted your penis With Eroticum Beanus. You plant them, they’ll tickle her rib. 66 A countrified yokel, Gail Berben, Found Blarnee men passin’ disturbin’. Darn fellows would woo her And date her and do her, Then dump her for floozies more urban. 67 Miss Gail had a friend, Bing A. Rebel, He was always in some kind of treble. He promised a rock If she’d choke his old cock Then he hit the poor girl with a pebble. 68 Bing’s real name was Libra, Gene B.-- Or so the town sheriff told me. His rap sheet of priors Was used in the fires He started to get himself free. 69 The last time we saw Bing A. Rebel, He had fallen in league with the Debbil. Thus Berben and Lane And I were all slain In a field… in New York… outside Preble. * Brian Belge |
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