story of a B

A bee and a flea met one day
The flea asked the bee to be gay
"Yes, I'll be!" said the bee
But the flea said, "Let's flee!"
So they both flew rapidly away

chance meeting...

A man met a young boy one day
Invited the young boy to play
Where the hell did they go?
I really do not know
But let's just reveal they were gay...

questions...

Did Fred Flinstone ever spread butter?
And did he use a knife?
Did Napoleon die far too young?
Or did he max his life?

If Guile used his sonic boom
Will it knock Cyclops out?
If Dalglish partnered Peter Crouch
Would he still have his drought?

Was Kublai tall? Was Sun Tsu fat?
Was Liu Bei really fair?
Was Zhong Kui really hideous
Or was it just his hair?

The questions that I ask myself
I ask them everyday
But the question that I ask the most
Is whether I am gay

a new chapter

The day we ended, finally
I reckoned that I might
Find another right away
Most likely by tonight

It shouldn't be too hard to find
I can certainly tell
For any other one sure beats
Your everlasting hell

So here in town I play away
Oblivious to those around
For even if they see me now
They wouldn't make a sound

Where are you now? I sure do wonder
Are you faring much better?
Or are you penning yet another
Rather suicidal letter

Heck, do I care? I ask myself
Oh, most certainly not
For very soon I know all these
Will be largely forgot

face it...

When I wake up everyday
I ask myself if I am gay
If my reply is "No I'm not"
I shall not get out from my cot

For being straight is not the way
To keep depressing thoughts at bay
If I stay gay I will be happy
Even if my boss gets snappy

So here in my cot I'll stay
Until I can safely say
That GAY is what I'll truly be
Just like the rest of my family!

Some good limericks (unoriginal)

There was a young man from Japan

Whose limericks never would scan.

When asked why this was,

He answered 'because

I always try to fit as many syllables into the last line as ever possibly I can.

A limerick fan from Australia

Regarded his work as a failure:

His verses were fine

Until the fourth line.

There once was a man from the sticks

Who liked to compose limericks.

But he failed at the sport,

For he wrote 'em too short.

This is taken a stage further by this pair of verses:

There was a young man of Arnoux

Whose limericks stopped at line two

...and by extension...

There was a young man of Verdun

...which if completed would be a self-contradiction.

A third example would be the limerick about the young man from Saint Paul, which would be self-contradictory if it were told at all.

Some proper ones:

A minor league pitcher, McDowell

Pitched an egg at a batter named Owl.

They cried "Get a hit!"

But it hatched in the mitt

And the umpire called it a fowl.

There once was a man dressed in black

His victims he stretched on a rack

With their every breath

Right up 'till their death

They begged him to give them some slack.

And the traditional ones:

There was a fair maiden of Exeter,

So pretty that guys craned their necks at her.

One was even so brave

as to take out and wave

The distinguishing mark of his sex at her.

On the breast of a barmaid named Gail,

Were tattoo'd the prices of ale.

And on her behind,

for the sake of the blind,

was the same, but written in Braille.

Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Limerick_%28poetry%29

Thank you Wikipedia!