The limerick’s an art form complex Whose contents run chiefly to sex; It’s famous for virgins And masculine urgins And vulgar, erotic effects
The challenge went down a storm, pulling in a record-breaking entry. The best of the bunch are rewarded with £8 each.John Whitworth/Philip Larkin Though most of my loves are Platonicer, It was always quite different with Monica. If I’ve got a hard ’un Down there in the garden, We do it behind the Japonica.
Max Gutmann/Ogden Nash Although candy is dandy, what’s finer And much quicker is liquor, so wine her. Is a peck on the cheek All the boon that you seek? Tut! The odds say your goal’s her vaginer.
George Simmers/Sylvia Plath Daddy, won’t you get out of my head? (Oh I bet you were beastly in bed!) You were fascist and vile And I think of you while Being thoroughly rogered by Ted.
Susan McLean/Byron When I met her, my married half-sister looked like me in a gown, so I kissed her. If I see my reflection, I get an erection, and that’s why I couldn’t resist her.
D.A. Prince/Emily Dickinson He would tickle the Feathers — of Hope — Should he slather my Breasts with rich Soap — and the shape of my Sole — O, such loud Barcarole — singing Bind Me, Securely — with Rope.
Basil Ransome-Davies/William Wordsworth A wildly priapic young fellow Sported trousers of daffodil-yellow Which at parties he’d doff To insanely jerk off, After which he’d feel placid and mellow.
Martin Parker/W.H. Auden I will tell you the truth about love. Before tentative push comes to shove I’ll be happy to find That it’s you I’m behind Or below or beside or above.
Derek Robinson/William Shakespeare Ophelia said ‘Let’s have some grub, ’Cos I’m starving.’ ‘Of course, tiger-cub,’ Replied Hamlet, ‘But first, Thou must deal with my wurst. Move thy hand like this … Ay, there’s the rub!’
Sylvia Smith/Dorothy Parker On the naturist beach, he loves staring At flesh that the ladies are baring. He even makes passes At girls who wear glasses, Provided that’s all that they’re wearing.
Francis Harry/Elizabeth Bishop Love’s an art that can turn to disaster. From no date should you run away faster Than a Star Wars fanboy Who calls his favourite toy His ‘light sabre’ or ‘Jedi Master’.
Bill Greenwell/John Keats A nightingale’s warbling is canny; An urn’ll outlive your old Granny: I’m crazy for Psyche, But really me likey A handful of beautiful Fanny.
Alan Millard/John Betjeman The vicar was tempted to flee When the Bishop’s wife said after tea, ‘Oh Reverend Morgan Do show me your organ! It’s something I’m dying to see.’
John Samson/Robert Burns Fae the crypt in the hert o’ St Giles Cam’ a scream heard by folks roon fur miles Says a wiley auld Hen ‘Dis the Deacon no’ ken That oor Minister suffers fae piles?’
P.C. Parrish/Edward Lear There was an old poet named Lear, Whose sex life was, verbally, queer. He pobbled his dong In a luminous thong, Turning green in Gromboolian beer!
A.G. Atkinson/Walt Whitman I am large, I contain multitudes. I engirth them in all attitudes. Their flesh is divine, And a blessing to mine. We’re all mystical, hankering nudes.
Noam D. Plum/Wendy Cope Bloody men are like buses? Well, test That big claim and you won’t be impressed. Contradicting that boast, You’ll discover that most Are like little French compacts at best.
Robert Schechter/Dylan Thomas My darling, please turn out the light. Don’t worry, I swear I won’t bite . . . …unless you say, ‘Do, sir! …It’s that which I choose, sir! I pray, don’t go gentle tonight!’
Chris O’Carroll/Emily Dickinson Are you — Nobody — sir? So am I! I can see how you — reach for the Sky With your Grail seeking Lance. If you’re — up for Romance, No Body than mine is more — spry.
Your next challenge is to submit a set of instructions for an everyday device that have been badly translated into English. Please email up to 150 words to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 10 May.
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