Jerry is the first on board. He's so fast at composing them, it got here before I even picked the site.

Let's see how fast you people are.

Two assays in

You should have mine now.

How much time have we got? I work better under pressure

quote:

How much time have we got? I work better under pressure

You're already late.

I'm in.

I'll keep this open 'til Monday to give everyone a chance to compose, or decompose, over the weekend.

I've also written a 25-limerick tribute to the great British discoverer, the late General Jeb Rawlter, after whom the peninsula was named (phonetically).

There once was a General Jeb Rawlter
Whose wife had a macacque assault her.
The beast did such a job
With his huge probing knob,
She died -- had to pickle and salt her

This message has been edited. Last edited by: <Proofreader>,

Gibraltar was actually founded
Not by the curiously sounded
General you said,
But Tariq ibn Ziyad --
An Arab - now are you astounded?

“I’ll take out on the apes me revinge!”
Said Jeb with his mind half off hinge.
He sought out the monkey,
Castrated its chunky,
But then died from an alcohol binge.

I rebuff your scurrilous attempt to deny this stout British gentleman his rightful place in history.

One is on its way from me, too.

I know Richard doesn't believe the information I posted in my limerick so here's something I found online. Don't bother checking because the site is down indefinitely for repairs. Just take my word that it is credible.

Brigadier General Jeb Rawlter (1805-1883) First Lord Pillsbury. His son, who served in World War I, was the original Pillsbury Doughboy.

General Rawlter served with the Light Brigade during the Crimean War. Unfortunately, the general was so corpulent that it only became the Light Brigade if he was not mounted with it. He therefore missed the famous charge, but wished everyone well who participated.

Shortly after that debacle, the general retired to the coast of Spain, living in a villa on a peninsula on the Mediterranean Sea. It was his habit to lounge in a hammock at the end of the land under a huge rock, waving at passing ships heading for the Atlantic. Because there was no GPS in those days, ship captains asking directions to England were told, “Sail west ‘till you see Jeb Rawlter, then turn right.”

Rawlter’s wife, Desiree, kept a tame Barbary ape as pet but, according to her diary, she became hopelessly infatuated with the primate. One lonely evening, while her husband was at the beach giving directions, Desiree in some way aroused a primal lust within the beast and was ravished beyond redemption, although she did die with a big smile on her face.

Jeb chased the ape, a formidable task given his bulk, eventually capturing it. The sordid details of what next happened are best left to your perverted imaginations. Rawlter was so disgusted by his conduct that he ingested huge quantities of English Stout, dying not so much from the alcohol as from the atrocious taste.

Eventually, after his death, his eponym was attached to the big rock near his home. But everyone knows the spot is actually named for one of England’s most famous generals.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: <Proofreader>,

quote:

Don't bother checking because the site is down indefinitely for repairs. Just take my word that it is credible.

Not only credible but incredible if you believe it! After all, who could believe that anyone could die from drinking fine English ale - especially stout with its known medicinal properties.

General Rawlter, as he lounged by the bight,
Would spring up as ships sailed into sight.
He would wave and he’d shout,
Almost throw his arm out:
"For England! For England! Take a right!”

Steering traffic, as Proofreader said,
Was the General's talent, which led
To his oft-quoted shout
As the ships headed out:
"For Madeira, just go straight ahead."

This message has been edited. Last edited by: jerry thomas,

quote:

Madeira

Perhaps that was what did for the general? Like Richard, I can't believe is was stout, with its well-known health-giving properties.

Due to the Monday holiday, Labor Day, I've pushed back the final reckoning until Tuesday.
We celebrate Labor Day by a 40-year tradition of my wife finding things for me to do, in effect, belaboring me.

If the ships that while passing the Strait,
Had problems, he'd tell them to wait
For a wind or a tide
That would help them decide
To get help from an old boatswain's mate.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: jerry thomas,

All the Docs said ingesting the stout
Wasn’t what put the general’s lights out.
It was hititng his head
As he fell into bed,
Though that lump could have come from a knout.

I don’t go for conspiracy act
But some things I know hist’ry’ll lack,
Like who shot JFK;
Threw the tea in the bay;
Who whacked Jeb in the back in the sack.

Equestrian General Jeb Rawlter
Taught riding a horse to son, Walter.
But his son couldn’t ride --
Something learned when he died
Saying “Gid-up,” not, “Whoa,” to halter.

His death was the best thing for Walter
For a young girl complained he’d assaulter.
While his dad waved at ships,
Walter would kiss her lips --
Both sets -- made her self control falter.

Putting us to shame, huh Proofreader? I will send you one.

I await your prize-winning cmposition, a limerick which will put all previous postings in peril, propelling your perfect poem to a prestigious position at the pinnacle --- or, of course, it might be a loser.

And, to all new members, this is not a private contest. You have until tomorrow to enter, if you feel worthy.

Herewith is the last element of the Jeb Rawlter saga:

Let’s put up a plaque to Jeb Rawlter
May the words in it be ten feet talltar
Let the folks know that Jeb
At his life’s lowest ebb
Was the first traffic sign in Gibraltar

Last chance for submissions. Winner will be announced Tuesday at about 9 AM EDT.

Here's one more ... for recreation (not for competition) ....


A prodigy from Gibraltar
Plays both violin and guitar
Instruments made of brass
Are out of his class
He's not even sure where they are.

While preparing this, I had all the limericks (except mine) on the screen. I left the room for a minute and, when I returned, I found my wife reading them.
“My God,” she said. “These are very good. Did you really write them all?”
I had to honestly answer her. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I did.”

Here are the limericks entered in “Limerick Game: Gibraltar”:

Jerry Thomas

A Raleigh she met in Gibraltar
She dragged him forthwith to the altar
In a nostalgic vein
In the Mediterrain
They named their first male baby Walter.

A bikini-clad maid from Gibraltar
Stored her goodies inside of her psalter.
There she hid hearts of palms,
Simple sonnets and psalms.
Other items were held in her halter.

Bethree5

‘Our deacon, while touring Gibraltar,
Sunbathed in grass skirt and pink halter.
He quoth, “ ‘Maketh lie down..’
“in a simple.. smart gown?—
“I’m sure it’s right here in my Psalter…”

Perched high on the Rock of Gibraltar,
Said Walker, Olympic pole-vaulter,
To leap, ‘t’would be killer!—
From Pillar to Pillar—
Provided that I do not falter.

There once was a bloke from Gibraltar
Who failed to show up at the altar
The bride said, “Screw flow’-
ry vows, I’ll keep the dow-
ry, and pay me own way (who could fault’er?)

BobHale

An assassin who came from Gibraltar
Said, “My aim doesn’t waver or falter.
When I’ve pointed my gun,
The job’s sure to be done.
(As long as the wind doesn’t alter!)

When a vicar in church on Gibraltar
Dropped his vault keys right under the altar,
And the wisdom of age
Gave way to great rage,
He assaulted the vault with a psalter.*

(*Though exactly what effect hitting it with a book would have is doubtful.)

I got rid of my gal from Gibraltar,
Though in most things I just couldn’t fault ‘er.
What a cook! What a cleaner!
What a stunning demeanour!
What a pity she wanted the altar.

Riichard English

The fortified outcrop, Gibraltar
Is British, as one time was Malta.
They thought their economy
Was best with autonomy —
We lost Malta as the Russians lost Yalta.

The folks there are called Gibraltarians —
Not the apes though, they’re called Barbarians.
These Barbary macaques
Eat tourists’ sweet snacks
Though in truth they should be vegetarians.

There is some interesting commentary (and awful limericks) on the apes here http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/3917987.stm

To the Spaniards Gibraltar’s a pain.
They believe it to be part of Spain.
But the staunch Gibraltarians
Are strong libertarians
And they treat Spain’s claim with disdain.

Stella

A sassy young lass in Gibraltar
Scanned her ass on the office Minolta.
She said, “It’s uncanny,
When scanning the fanny
You get such a fuzzy result. Ha!”

A visiting choir in Gibraltar
Sang Brahms’ Sacred Psalms on the altar.
When the tenor said that
The mezzo was flat
She assaulted the prat with her psalter.

A tenor named Patrick Fitzwalter
Once vaulted the rock of Gibraltar.
He sang as he cleared it,
“Oh, I am a’feared it
Will not have a pleasant result ... aaaaaarh!”

Arnie

There was a young girl from Gibraltar
Whose priest longed to assault her
He’d see her short skirt,
Think “What a flirt!”
And gum up the leaves of his psalter.

Proofreader
(not in the running)

A buxom babe bred in Gibraltar
Was eager to have men exaltar.
She wore clothes extra tight
To her male friends’ delight.
Exaltar, my ass. They’d assaultar.

They hauled down and half-mast’ar haltar
They exulted as they’d all pole vaultar.
Those guys put it to ‘ar,
Oh, how they did screw’ar.
Exaltar? No. Mounted and Maltar.

Because they are all so good (despite the paucity of rhyming words) I found it difficult to choose a winner. Yet a winner does have to be chosen.

Technical merits didn’t enter into the choice, since given my own inadequacies, I don’t feel qualified to judge others. So it came down to who found the most original and entertaining ways to get past “Gibraltar” and its rhyme limitations.

Eventually I narrowed the choice down to Bethree and Stella (again). Based on her rhyme variation in her third (which I considered best), and the alliteration in her first, I pick as the winner, Stella.

This, however, is with the condition that we never return to Rotorua again.

Gee! Thanks, Proofreader. I’m very chuffed to have been chosen from that great line-up of limericks.

Through the excitement of it all, it’s dawning on me that success is a double-edged sword here – now I have the dilemma of a new place name again. Also, I’ll be away from tomorrow until Monday (your Sunday) and won’t be able to enter into any correspondence until I return. If that’s OK with you all, then I’ll post a new name before I leave.

Does anyone want to make any suggestions about rhyming words? I get the feeling that Rotorua mightn’t have been a great choice.

Do your worst. My rhymes are so far off I can rhyme cat with Ratzenburger.

And I hope chuffed isn't anything like chafed. That's a new word for me.

Wait a minute -- just looked it up

1 pleased, delighted, gratified, etc.
2 disgruntled, displeased, unhappy, etc.

Which def did you mean?

Oh no.

I missed it? With all the hullabaloo on the board this weekend, I just forgot about it. That's the first time since Bob started this game. It has been a great game, hasn't it?

Stella is a ringer here!

Now there's a word I don’t use. The only ‘ringer’ I know is slang for a sheep shearer, as in the chorus of this iconic Aussie ballad.

"Click go the shears boys, click, click, click,
Wide is his blow and his hands move quick,
The ringer looks around and he's beaten by a blow,
And curses the old snagger with the bare-bellied yoe."

I guess that some of that looks like a foreign language to some of you.

I’ve only ever heard or used ‘chuff’ to mean pleased or the noise of a steam train. Until now I had no idea it had so many other meanings.

quote:

Stella is a ringer here!

I think the term Kalleh is looking for is a "sandbagger."

A "ringer" is a substitute fraudulently entered in a competition. Stella didn't enter fraudulently .... but ......

A "sandbagger" is someone who plays down their ability in order to deceive opponents and thus gain an advantage.

Whether or not Stella is a sandbagger is debatable. But I don't think we'll be deceived as to her abilities in any subsequent round of limerick creation.

Well, I've seen ringer used to mean an expert who comes in and wins everything, but to be honest I couldn't find that in the dictionary definitions.

I haven't read any of the limericks for Gibraltar yet, just in case others have used some of these rhymes. But I wanted to post a limerick for Proofreader, even though it's too late for the contest. After all, I had promised him!

There once was a gentleman, Walter,
Who'd climb to the top of Gibraltar,
At women he'd spy,
He'd ogle and eye,
Saying, "Look at the one with the halter!"

quote:

But I wanted to post a limerick for Proofreader, even though it's too late for the contest

Now that would have indeed been in the running. But it would have been nosed out by Stella.

I've heard "ringer" used the same way but I guess the usage hasn't reached the dictionaries yet.

The Online Etymology Dictionary has an interesting entry for ringer.

The Australian definition of ringer as "expert" is probably the usage making the rounds here. It hasn't made the dictionaries I use (I'm still in the solid material age, as opposed to electronic).

I only know of it meaning a "fraudulent entrant". I've not come across it with the Australian meaning of "expert". I notice that no etymology is given for the earlier Australian meaning of "expert sheep shearer". I wonder how that arose?

Partidge's Dictionary of Slang gives a number of defs for "ringer," none as an expert.
He does say "ringest" means best in Aussie surfer slang from the '60s. That could either be a change on "ringer" or perhaps have been an adaptation.

The Cassell Dictionary of Slang gives "ring-ting" as the real thing. (West Indies slang, though)

I do hope you don't really think I'm a 'ringer' then - as in false pretences. In the interests of full disclosure I hereby declare my 18mths in the school of hard knocks (aka OEDILF).

Maybe I'm a 'snagger' though.

OK, I found an Australian slang dictionary that gives two definitions: 1. a sausage, and 2. a slow or inexpert sheep-shearer. I sincerely hope you're not the first one.

'You old sausage' is actually a term of endearment here but I was referring to the song I quoted above:

"The ringer looks around and he's beaten by a blow,
And curses the old snagger with the bare-bellied yoe."

I guessed it meant someone who snagged a prize as in hooked a fish, but I don't use the word much myself.

The way Shu explained it to me is that the person doesn't really have to be fraudulent...but it's one who enters a contest (or whatever) saying he's just average limerick writer when, indeed, he's a Chris Doyle. (For those who aren't on OEDILF, Chris over there is a real ringer! ) That's how I've seen it used.

quote:

Originally posted by Kalleh:
The way Shu explained it to me is that the person doesn't really have to be fraudulent...but it's one who enters a contest (or whatever) saying he's just average limerick writer when, indeed, he's a Chris Doyle. (For those who aren't on OEDILF, Chris over there is a real ringer! ) That's how I've seen it used.

Chris isn't a ringer over there as he claims to be no one other than himself. Now if the "stella" posting here is really Chris in drag, that would be a ringer.

I believe it's a horse racing term, where a known class-leading horse is entered under a false identity so as to fool the bookies and enrich the punters involved.

quote:

it meant someone who snagged a prize as in hooked a fish,

Several slang dictionaries refer to a fisherman who snags a fish by the tail. They don't go into detail but it seems the other fishermen consider catching a fish that way to be either a lazy way to do it, or a wholly improper and unsportsmanlike way. Hard to tell which is meant.

In Oz, a "snagger" is the opposite of a "ringer". He's an incompetent shearer who rushes the job and catches the sheep's wool and skin in his shears. The rhyme is essentially a lament by an expert "ringer" that he can be beaten in a sheep-shearing contest by a "snagger", who is willing to cut corners and harm the sheep.

(Thanks to Verbivore and Geoff in the Not-the-APS Message Board for the insights into antipodean culture.)

Now that we settled that, I wish some fisherman would clue me in on how hooking a fish by the tail, instead of the mouth, is a "lazy" way to do it. I think that would be a harder, less efficient way to do it. Or is this some fisherman's "fish story"?