Limericks Part 5 - Barnacles on the Binnacle!

Plodding north at ten on the Queen,
Snarled Dave as he vented his spleen,
"Boy, do I yearn,
To make their ships burn,
Then sink to make the sea clean."

Astern was a baron named Letters,
Who didn't see Brits as his betters,
To the occasion he rose,
Citing Scottish Montrose,
And cast off all tactical fetters.

The Brits have to turn for the best,
For their fleet, to save what is left,
If they go east,
The baron will feast,
So it's likely that they will go west.

There once was a bloke named Tem-pest,
Who wanted to write like the best,
But few on this page,
Could live on the wage,
That the stories we write here could wrest.

Now some, like the Dave from LA,
Can rhyme all the lawd loving day,
But tyros like me,
Will just never be,
Able to match his word play.

That Jim, old Jim, he's a Renaissance man
if he can't write it, nobody can
from the grey chill waters of the old North Sea
to the attempts at limericks, er, "poetry"
he the best of us all! (from a loyal fan)

So Tempest, young Tempest, you'd best know now
that to write as well, you have to learn how
so to Jim's bended knee you should hurry
and his favor you must, young lad, quickly curry
and the results, I promise, will elicit a "WOW!"

"Keep shooting at the enemy!!!"
Rudburg said with glee
"For the Baron's in the east
And on dreadnoughts I will feast
For I too wish a baronetcy!"

"Guns! You heard the order!!!"
Cried the captains, "Give no quarter!"
Standing out on their bridge wings
Oh, of victory we sings!
But loose the Scot and we'll be much shorter.

There's always time for a Scot
to slay the enemy, he's not
a coward or a craven
he's a real warfare maven
our Scot likes his battles to be fought!

So the Prussians, they no stranger
to the call of a battle's danger
they admire the Scot
and the guts that he's got
but try, when they can, to increase the range -r.

The baron likes the range low,
In fact, about a rock's throw,
Because there he can smite,
With his lighter gun might,
And Brit ships so nicely do blow!

There's worse danger than 15" shells and falling haggis!

While the rest of us wait in a stew,
Limericks like grapeshot they flew,
Above our poor heads
While we waited in dread,
And the good Dr. hasn't a clue!

(See? Ignorance IS bliss!) :-D

Off to my bed now I go
Cannot wait for the story to show
Early comes the alarm horn
I've got class in the morn
And so I will miss the British woe.

Classes and drill my seniors did plan
I will read Letterstime when I can.
Though an HSF lackey
Tomorrow I wear khaki
For I'm a US midshipman.

There once was a captain named Bill
who wanted many Britons to kill
he champed at his bits
to add to the hits
that were causing the Brits to be ill

Bill painted another kill ring
on his guns, and he started to sing --
'"Deutschland uber alles," baby
my ship, and others, maybe
are having a wonderful fling"

But wait, old Bill, please wait a mo
the Grand Fleet ain't dead yet, my bro
there's still a small chance
that the QE will lead the dance
as it tows Bill's ship in the Flow

Here it goes! One of Frauenlob's deadly side-launching limericks!

LA Dave thinks
the HSF stinks
says our fleet is too ugly,
covered with shrubbery.
But we're the ones raising our drinks!

There once was a lass named Colleen
a lady who wrote like a queen
she loved S.M.S. Frauenlob
(to look at her, a wretched design job)
and thinks I, to the HSF, is too mean

Well, I assure you, my dear young Colleen
that I do not intend to be mean
I am not trying to be smugly
when I write that your ship is ugly
but my posts, ma'am, are right on the bean

Have you gazed at your favorite cruiser?
her ram bow could a battleship bruise-her
Frauenlob is beyond prose
though I have tried, the Lord knows
but all in all, dear Colleen, she's a sure lose-sher!

Immortalized in poetry, I blush
it gives me quite a nice rush.
Thank goodness old Frau
With her ugly ram-bow
Can turn dainty Brit DDs to mush.

In Frauenlob rode our Colleen,
The Letterstime High Seas Fleet's Queen.
LA Dave said he hated
Our ships, so he rated
A limerick, witty and keen.

Colleen wrote her limerick first.
The words flew with sharp muzzle burst.
LA Dave fired back,
But the Western Coast hack
Wrote a verse quite as limp as a wurst.

From the bridge Colleen cried, "Fire Two!"
And the aim of her limerick true,
It struck LA Dave;
And no party could save,
The Grand Fleet's reputation run through.

An Erzherzog not far away
From his bridge rail observed the display.
He drained out his stein.
Colleen had done fine
And the Germans had carried the day.

"We should've won, we could'a!
If we'd gotten the Baron, we would'a!"
Claim our most worthy British foes.
But I've learned, in addition to their woes,
..the outcome will be decided in Florida!

The thing that I love about HSF hacks
is that they take umbrage at all of my cracks
they are so darn serious
sometimes, even delirious
when responding to my Limerick "attacks"

Now wb has joined in the fray
with verse, that if I might say
is delightful and naughty
(thank God he avoids the potty)
it made my morning and day

But my friends, you who love Kaiser Billy
consider why I think him so silly
he uniforms himself with much care
but his fleet he's afraid to dare
methinks that his w---y is no dilly

Please excuse that last exercise in rhyme
in some lands t'would be considered a crime
but I'm trying so hard
to change the dance card
now that jim has beaten us this time

Not pretty, savage, and a sober reminder of what Theodore said in an
earlier post, the story of those on such ships
would be gruesome.

There was once a general named Falkenhayn
an irritable man, of brooding mein
he hated Baron Letters
who distinctly was his betters
and whose exploits drove old Falkie quite insane

Now some might think the name of Falkenhayn
should be pronounced to rhyme with "Balkan Swine"
Frankly, I don't care
I wouldn't dream to dare
to question those to whom old Falkie is sehr divine

So whether it rhymes with stain or stein
old Falkenhayn's name will always be fine
as a patron of art
he got lot's of heart
and on his words tonight he will dine!

There once was a Dave from the West,
Who thought the Fleet Grand was the best,
But with the range low,
The Brit ships did blow,
And we're all still reading the rest.

Now of cell phones we write
While the British we smite
They're anachronistic
It all seems quite mystic
And Letterstime day turns to night.

Quoth Sieg: "vassup?"
Said Wilhelm: "nicht up"
They hoisted a beer
All in good cheer
And drained them all in one gulp.

Bill's quite averse
To limericks, a curse
Upon them Pasha spits
Only a bit less than at Brits
But twouldn't have happened if he hadn't been Scheer's nurse.

Bill opened a post
Realized he was toast
For inside he found
Things he wished had been drowned
Echoing the desires of most.

Oh how could that worthy young Ted
wish deathless and immortal rhyme dead?
we all must agree
that between him and me
our poetry is as weightless as lead

He's an evil one, that old German, Bill
all Limerick writers quickly he would kill
he despises our rhyme,
he thinks it a crime,
but poetry will triumph o'er his will

Now Ted, that worthy young fellow
has addressed him in tones so mellow
but I am much sadder,
and therefore, much madder
that I am forced to impose Limerick Hell - 0

So Wilhelm, you literary dunce
I've told you, now, more times than once
foreswear your tirades 'gainst poetry
lest you earn my undying foe-etry
and force open new Limerick fronts!

Authors various: LA Dave, jim, Theodore, Colleen (any others I've missed?)