Tag Archives: doggerel

Washing hands

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Wash your hands for twenty seconds,
After touching outside things.
Sluice your mitts with sanitiser,
Healthy lives such cleansing brings!

You all know what’s needing doing,
Otherwise we spread disease.
Utter disregard spells danger,
Reproduction rates won’t ease.

Have yourself a merry soaping!
Add clean water — don’t be tense!
Need we ask?
Don the mask!
Social distancing makes sense!


Acrostic coronaverse, brought to you by the letter W.

Super spreader

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It’s lack of social distancing I fear
each time some numbskull prances near,
it’s then a twisted new refrain
comes fast, unbidden, to the brain:

“Tonight the superspreader bugs are gonna find me, gasping out for air,
wheezing, needing care,
feeling like I need a prayer.”

What’s the problem with these chancers,
inching close like bloody dancers?
Do I need a six-foot stick,
or do they need a damn good kick?

“Superspreader bugs are gonna mind me, I may need a pill,
yes, I’m sure I will
if someone in the crowd feels ill.”

Each time some numbskull prances near
it’s lack of social distancing I fear.


With apologies to Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus. This coronaverse brought to you by the letter S.

Nauseous trio

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The virus from outside, just like a trojan horse,
attacks the victim’s inside, violates our very source,
though they try their very damnedest to repel it,
our bodies have their work cut out just trying to expel it.

The chronicles of nausea, vomit, diarrhea,
demonstrate a failure to keep clear
of the dread coronavirus,
an illness sent to try us.
Symptoms gastrointestinal —
in the analysis somewhat final —
is reported by 1 in 10 or 20
women and men: queasiness aplenty.


Today’s coronaverse was brought to you by the letter N.

Immunity free

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We don’t know what’s in it!

That’s what they are saying.
However they spin it
let’s hope they are praying
that if they’re not immunised
they won’t get affected;
they just won’t be apprised
of what’s really injected.

There’s a chip we can’t trust
in what comes from those labs;
and those experts? They just
tell us lies ’bout the jabs.

They’d rather get factoids
from some chappies online
than boffins’ and medics’
advice on what’s fine.


A coronaverse brought to you today by the letter I

Sagacious

You know those two hobbits called Baggins? Their trips only came after naggings from Gandalf the wizard. They wandered through blizzard and mines, then they drank loads of flagons. Now, one found a ring of great power, and one found his way to a tower to bring down a Dark Lord, or perish in Mordor; a deed which caused Sauron to glower.

There’s sadness, adventure and mirth in the lands all around Middle Earth. Right in the middle’s what’s won with some riddles: a magical ring of great worth.

Now a saga is something quite serious, potentous, designed to quite weary us. A limerick’s light, reputedly trite, unsuited to epics imperious. So a story of hobbits, and wizards, and elves, and matters a saga digs down to and delves is no topic for limerick, it’s pointless to mimic. If you want such a tale you must write it yourselves!

Happy new cheer

It’s New Year’s Eve. So long, and thanks
for all the luscious puns and games,
for health reports, and news of pranks
you’ve played, and all the names
you’ve called your other half,
old whatsit… It’s been quite a laugh.
And so, as we see out this year,
it’s cheers to you! And mine’s a beer.

Drone

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My cat Florrie was flattened by a lorry.
My old pa was run over by a car.

My mate Mike met quietus with a bike.
My pal Ron fought a red pantechnicon.

Poor old Sue claimed that nothing ever stopped her — until, one day, she took on a helicopter.

Now I’m all alone …

Do I really hear a drone?


Inspired by this post from Colin McQueen

Sucking the colour from a puffin’s bill

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Waking up this morning with an earworm in my head,
Sucking the colour from a puffin’s bill,
Waking from a dream wondering why on earth I’d said
“Sucking the colour from a puffin’s bill.”
I was sitting on a train — Puffing Billy was its name —
When rising from my seat as I leapt up to my feet
Out the window then I flew as an arrow straight and true
All the while sucking colour from a puffin’s bill.

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Actualités

To the unjust, one trusts, just desserts come their way,
if it’s true, as they say, every dog has its day.

A plague and a pest on corrupt politicians:
it’s time they considered their ill-gained positions.

We used to have in olden times the desolation blues;
Now it’s masks and distancing and isolation news.


More verses with the Twitter tag #CoupletsForBreakfast

Edward III

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Christopher Robin is saying his prayers,
Asking his Maker for good names for bears.
He doesn’t like Edward, or Teddy, but dares
Winnie, or Pooh.

When he’s mounting the stairs
Or wandering in woods and digging out lairs
Pooh — say it loud! — is a good name for bears.


Edmund Bentley‘s rhymes for clerihew must be very few,
As the task’s quite hairy, do at least make them merry too!


There once was an Edward called Lear
Writing nonsense but, just to be clear,
He also did artwork
(and this was the perk)
Got to travel and not stay just here.

The Ant and the Elephant

or, Tony and Lofty

Tony the Ant 🐜
he just wanted to rant,
so he climbed up the plant 🌿
to talk to an elephant 🐘
whose first name was Lofty,
and ever and oft he
was seen as a softy
till one day he coughed. He
said, “Don’t underest-
imate me, ’cause it’s best
you don’t.” Then he confessed
“I’m not wearing a vest.
This skin is my own,
I don’t want to moan
but it’s not mine to loan.”
Then he hung up the phone.
Poor Tony the Ant 🐜
then climbed down the plant. 🌿
He sighed, “You just can’t
ever rant to an elephant.”

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