1
Still keen to thrill his Jill from Rhyl,
Phil found his "Bill" would no more fill.
When the dildo daddled
Old Phil was addled -
A bitter Pill gave Jill her thrill.

2
In Wales I had quite a thrill
In a seaside resort town called Rhyl.
I met a great guy
We had sex on the fly
And then he was off to Brazil.

3
Night fishermen picking in Rhyl
Go starkers and harvest a thrill,
Baring mussels and cockles
And causing debacles
As local gals screech loud and shrill.

4
The food fish way up in Welsh Rhyl
Isn’t tuna nor naught with a gill
They call it a cockle
It tastes like pig’s knockle
It’s killer when fried on the grill.

5
A seamstress a-sewing in Rhyl
Was stiffed on presenting her bill.
"Though my fingers ooze pain,
All my work was in vain.
That's the last time I sew Kalleh's twill."

6
There was a young man from Rhyl,
Who swallowed an explosive pill.
His bollocks went clang,
His goolies went bang,
And his dick shot over a hill!

7
On a journey to beautiful Rhyl
My toothache became very shrill.
I went to a dentist
(I hope no apprentice!)
Who said, "Drill and we'll drill and then fill!"

8
Went up to the beaches of Rhyl
With my thrill of the month, Joanie Jill.
She got into the pockles
Where I keeps my cockles
And I am still paying the bill.

9
Bill and Jill ran a still up in Rhyl.
Near the mill, empty bottles they'd fill.
This booze some though was great;
Others viewed it with hate
And complained that it tasted like swill.

10
I must live in our old house in Rhyl,
The decrepit estate on the hill.
You can laugh. It's not funny.
If I leave, I lose money.
It's stated quite plain in Dad's will.

Question:
Which is your choice.

Choices:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10

 

Wow, those are really great. This selection is going to be hard! Love the one about Kalleh!

Someone has to vote and break the tie.

It's always so interesting. I wrote two and much preferred one over the other. Yet the one I liked least got a vote. It's also interesting how sometimes one will be a slam dunk, though other times (like now) the votes are all over the place.

Here are the authors

1 Greg
Still keen to thrill his Jill from Rhyl,
Phil found his "Bill" would no more fill.
When the dildo daddled
Old Phil was addled -
A bitter Pill gave Jill her thrill.

2 Kslleh
In Wales I had quite a thrill
In a seaside resort town called Rhyl.
I met a great guy
We had sex on the fly
And then he was off to Brazil.

3 bethree5
Night fishermen picking in Rhyl
Go starkers and harvest a thrill,
Baring mussels and cockles
And causing debacles
As local gals screech loud and shrill.

4 bethree5
The food fish way up in Welsh Rhyl
Isn’t tuna nor naught with a gill
They call it a cockle
It tastes like pig’s knockle
It’s killer when fried on the grill.

5 proofreader
A seamstress a-sewing in Rhyl
Was stiffed on presenting her bill.
"Though my fingers ooze pain,
All my work was in vain.
That's the last time I sew Kalleh's twill."

6 arnie
There was a young man from Rhyl,
Who swallowed an explosive pill.
His bollocks went clang,
His goolies went bang,
And his dick shot over a hill!

7 Kalleh
On a journey to beautiful Rhyl
My toothache became very shrill.
I went to a dentist
(I hope no apprentice!)
Who said, "Drill and we'll drill and then fill!"

8 bethree5
Went up to the beaches of Rhyl
With my thrill of the month, Joanie Jill.
She got into the pockles
Where I keeps my cockles
And I am still paying the bill.

9 proofreader
Bill and Jill ran a still up in Rhyl.
Near the mill, empty bottles they'd fill.
This booze some though was great;
Others viewed it with hate
And complained that it tasted like swill.

10 proofreader
I must live in our old house in Rhyl,
The decrepit estate on the hill.
You can laugh. It's not funny.
If I leave, I lose money.
It's stated quite plain in Dad's will.

And the winner is number 3 penned by bethree5, which, had it come down to it, would also have got my deciding vote.

Congratulations, Bethree! The baton is yours.

My typo in L3 of number 9 9thought) was fatal.

I voted for #10.

I had to vote for Proof's Kalleh limerick.

As a very irregular contributor, I was pleasantly surprised that mine (6) got a vote.

As a very regular contributor, I was disappointed that mine (1) didn't get a vote.

quote:

As a very regular contributor, I was disappointed that mine (1) didn't get a vote.

If at first you don't succeed, cheat.

quote:

If at first you don't succeed, cheat.

Hmm - now how could I have done that I wonder? Ah yes of course a secret late vote for my own when the contest is already over, would have done it I guess. But I'd probably end up feeling even worse, so no point really. Just have to come up with a better limerick next time.

Last year my computer crashed but I had saved all my files on another drive. When I bought the next money-eater, I tried to load my old Pagemaker program (which is what my files need to run) only to learn that Adobe decided not to support the program. So Windows 8 rejected it and there seemingly was no way to salvage the old files except to buy the next version at a ridiculous price. Yesterday I learned that there is a windows text editor that brings the text to life but with extensive editing.

I managed to save all my old limericks and the most obvious feature from five years ago is just how bad they were. I'm thinking of publishing them in a book as bad examples of how to write limericks.

quote:

Originally posted by arnie:
As a very irregular contributor, I was pleasantly surprised that mine (6) got a vote.

And I'd vote for it again. The last line is hiLARious.

Will post a new location as soon as I think of one

arnie, I almost voted for yours.

Greg, I loved your rhymes and so wanted to make the meter work. I read it a number of times, even aloud, but I just couldn't make it work.

quote:

And his dick shot out over a hill!

It needed the "out" or some other word to make the meter work.

quote:

.....I'm thinking of publishing them in a book as bad examples of how to write limericks.

Hey, I think I already studied that book....and before it was written, no less.

quote:

Hey, I think I already studied that book....and before it was written, no less.

Those that can't do, teach. Those that can do write limericks.

I think I can do - and I teach, too.