From the north of England…
A greedy young fellow from York
Was exceptionally fond of roast pork.
When he saw the dish come
He’d cry ‘Yummy, yum-yum!’
And excitedly flourish his fork.
to the south of France…
A cheerful young fellow named Trev
Went off for a romp in Lodève.
But he soon lost his smile
When he caught something vile
In a house of delight called Mon Rêve.
this little book of limericks – mostly naughty rather than downright rude – ranges far and wide. Open it and learn how a knight-errant with a lisp can still command respect; how ladies on the autoroute don’t give their favours away for free, and how tajine is really only a posh word for stew.
From the north of England…
A greedy young fellow from York
Was exceptionally fond of roast pork.
When he saw the dish come
He’d cry ‘Yummy, yum-yum!’
And excitedly flourish his fork.
to the south of France…
A cheerful young fellow named Trev
Went off for a romp in Lodève.
But he soon lost his smile
When he caught something vile
In a house of delight called Mon Rêve.
this little book of limericks – mostly naughty rather than downright rude – ranges far and wide. Open it and learn how a knight-errant with a lisp can still command respect; how ladies on the autoroute don’t give their favours away for free, and how tajine is really only a posh word for stew.