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(the limericks here were originally posted on the tfc forums starting on 12/3/03 and ending 12/19/03. Authors are noted before the ones that they did. In a few cases they're slightly out of the original order.)
By Zeks:
The man from Midgaard
There once was a man from Midgaard 
Who was beaten and scarred 
He woke one day 
Seeking a fido to slay 
But all he found was a dog 

The elf from Malenest
There once was an elf from Malenest 
Who liked to lay in an Aara's nest 
He'd roll and he'd play 
In the place that he'd stay 
And considered it one of the best 

The mayor and Slue
"The city is closed" the mayor did delare 
His voice carried through Midgaard's air 
He walked passed Slue 
With his face turning blue 
For Slue's bottom was bare 

The mayor
The mayor he did marry 
And kept his wife in solitary 
His wife he wouldn't miss 
For he'd steal a quick kiss 
From his one and only secretary

The Giant
There once was a giant from Skor'lanis 
He had a triangular head like a mantis 
He wandered down the mountain 
And stumbled upon a fountain 
He drank until he could drink no more 
He drank until his insides were sore 
And his head exploded all around us 

The thief
Stealing is just like an attack 
That allows thieves to talk smack 
"Ha ha! What was yours is now mine" 
Is what it says on the thief's sign 
'cause now he's going through your sack

The gnome 
There once was a gnome from Thistlerock 
Who wore on his foot one old sock 
Outside he would go 
In the rain or in the snow 
To look for parts for his clock

The peacekeeper 
The peacekeeper from Safehaven 
didn't know what he was savin' 
But it came to him one day 
That a pesky demon he must slay 
And make the demon soup he'd been cravin'

The quartermaster 
There once was a quartermaster from Midgaard 
Who in a fight with Merrick had become scarred 
Cloaked in an aura the color of blue 
He stands as big and as bad as Slue 
To this very day 
You can hear Borlan say 
"To hell with you, Merrick, 
I will make YOU pay!"

By DarkClaw:
Crooky Took 
There once was a halfling named Took 
who nobody knew was a crook. 
He'd steal all the weed 
out of pure stoner greed 
and off to the hill he would book.

The Dealer 
He found a stash by the healer 
that looked a little familiar. 
To the plantation he went. 
A long time he spent 
growing crops to become a dealer.

By Coleman:
All those limericks wouldn't fit in a carriage, 
but by no means am I trying to disparage. 
Now prepare for the birth 
of a thread of high worth 
and, remember kiddies, no Zeks before marriage.

(and in response to edge stating "i'd make a limerick 
if i could only remember the rules for em... *sigh*")

There's really no trick to it, Edge, 
so back away now from that ledge. 
Limericks have five lines 
and a meter that shines. 
The flow is the key, I allege.


While reading the work of DarkClaw, 
I admit that I was in awe. 
The attempts, they were great, 
but it sure wasn't fate. 
Part bliss, and part George Bernard Shaw.


In the kitchen stands the renowned chef, Tynian. 
TFC is the banquet, epicurean. 
I get famished for more 
of what he has in store 
for everyone, both immortal and plebeian.

By Schwartz:
Mind not the Head Mirthie's pun 
We get this on ftell a ton 
I can't say they're bad 
He really gets quite mad 
And trust me, there's nowhere to run!

Discussing our ftell on this forum, dear Schwartz? 
Let us find out how your mortal body contorts 
when you're hit with a rift. 
You'll thank me for the gift. 
Should I also mention the random teleports?

Well, now I've gone and done it 
I've offended the Mirthiful pundit 
Know this, my friend 
I've caused my own end 
Guess I'll just grin and guild-sit!

By Okk:
all these puns are too much for my head 
can't you write epic poems instead? 
it's a disgrace to the pen 
is that out of your ken? 
I'd kill myself if I weren't already dead!

By Sabella:
Thank you Coleman and Schwartzie and more 
Bringing humor, not threads full of gore 
Or stooping to sling 
an insult with zing 
You're gentlemen, both, to the core. 

Its hard to restrain, I admit 
When everyone's throwing a fit 
With a mouth full of bile, 
they love to revile, 
But you're always above all that .... *cough*. 

Ink and pen, wit and word, always glee 
Sharing humor, and laughter with me 
My respect for you grows 
with each line of prose 
So thank you, fine lads and Okkie! 

(And at this point i post, "not a limerick, but... 
does anyone who put one here object if i post these 
to my timeline? pm me if so")

Now Marisa, why would we be mad? 
The rhymes themselves are terribly bad 
But as you're aware 
You, too, must share 
To keep us from being offended and sad... 

I'm going to get rifted for sure 
Despite being suave and demure 
See, puns are the thing 
To Mirth, they're 'bling-bling' 
And we get punished if they smell like manure. 

You only live once, as they say 
If you want to keep playing, you pay 
Pay for these limericks I will 
As Coleman refines his spellcasting skill 
Don't make me keep doing this, okay? 

Well now I guess I can't stop 
Despite my limericks, they're a flop 
It's just too much fun 
(just brown-nosing the guy at the top!)

tsk, tsk to you, young elven lass 
your one-liner is simply too crass 
this thread's only for rhymes 
perforce, post one more time 
and mayhap then I'll hear what you ask


thanks Sabella for the kind things you said 
and the authors of what I just read 
there's been too much mudslinging 
(all the good that that's bringing) 
only humor will get us ahead!

By Marisa:
Aw Schwartz, who knows why people'd get mad? 
I only feel sad 
When they rant and they rave 
And they dance on my grave 
And stand staring, as if I am bad. 

But it's a crime you know, 
To stand up and show 
That you want to preserve - 
Without ANY reserve 
All these fine words as they glow. 

Hm, perhaps "fine words" is too strong? 
I don't know, it could be I'm wrong! 
But ah the taste, and the flavor 
Of bad puns I must savor 
As we continue reading along. 

Still, twenty years from now 
When Khore's gone off to Kung-Pao 
With his most favoritest vampris 
A champ, like Pete Sampras 
Here the words'll be, still up like the Dow 

And Okk, 
You ogre, you rock! 
Calling my question crass! 
I can't believe that, you MUST have meant grass. 
I'm still so deeply in shock. 

It must just be the rhyme 
Or the effect of green slime 
On such a literate ogre - and eloquent too! 
Who'd have thought an ever-hungry creature like you 
Could write poetry and limericks with great meter and time? 

But now it is time for me to respond 
'Fore anyone else fishes my pond 
For I'm not sure I could ever compete 
With limericks so great and so neat 
I must sign off, your ever so fond 

Marisa the Enchanted 
The one who was granted 
Charter member, chocaholics anonymous 
Writer, synonymous 
With those have have canted.

I couldn't help but become sentimental 
seeing an ogre with powers quite mental. 
Then I thought to myself 
"Possibly from an elf, 
but from him, it must have been Okk-cidental."

Hi, my name is DarkClaw, and I'm a Limerist.
I lay awake in my bed 
with these words in my head! 
It's simply a crime 
when you can't keep the time. 
Limerick! I wish you'd never said! 

Not necessarily better, you see, 
when you rhyme like me, 
with your foot a-tap 
as you look at the map 
and your hand patting your knee. 

It's quite addictive to us. 
It raises quite a fuss. 
When your words do not match, 
drink another, down the hatch! 
And say a thing or two in cuss! 

It's no wonder, you see, 
that this we became to be, 
with the bards and they're singing 
and their drums and lutes ringing. 
Which is better, keeping time or being on-key? 

Perhaps I need a lesson or two 
from Mylk, or from Oook, when he's eating Elf stew. 
They could teach me to sing 
and perhaps show me something, 
and I could repay them with a limerick or few. 

Alas, I am left 
with this very same mess. 
Oh, what do I do 
with these words that I queue? 
Share them with you all I guess!

Your Chocolate or Your Life!
There lives this Goddess named Bliss 
who gives off the sweetest kiss. 
Covered in chocolate, her lips, 
from the cocoa she sips. 
When she's gone the candy comes up amiss! 

We can hardly get by 
without our big sugar high. 
When it comes to partaking 
we're all in the making. 
For a chocolate or two we would lie! 

It comes down to this. 
Do you get the jist? 
If you don't have sweets, 
better hustle your feets, 
cause you'll be put on the big hex list!

ah Marisa, I heard you this time 
when you posted with rhymes in your lines 
it's so fun to converse-- 
all this talking in verse 
and of course you may post what you find

Ode to the Imms 
Ladislaw was much in distress 
when he found his shop robbed and a mess 
his store will not last long 
with his chocolate all gone 
by the greed of the Chocolate Goddess!

Ode to the Imms 
dutiful Weaver is she 
weaving the world's tapestry 
the Chosen she leads 
always help those in need 
ever serving the will of the Three

Ode to the Imms  
he likes to hang out in a crypt 
with dragonscale he is equipped 
always spreading the word 
of Lord Nash with the sword 
his Conclave will thank you for the gift

Ode to the Imms 
armed with a helmet and lance 
on delicate threads did she dance 
she took a gamble and lost 
and quite dear was the cost 
what an end for the Goddess of Chance

Ode to the Imms  
his ebon hand tortures his soul 
and he stared too long into a sigil 
spreading dark secrets seen 
just beyond sanity 
shadowed by the powers of old

Ode to the Imms 
although he's incredibly short 
his size does not show you his worth 
writing code in all day 
just so that we can play 
implementing our world is this dwarf

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