I recently visited Jumping at the Ground and Missing and was delighted to find reference to Good Old Tom Swift. When I was keeping bad company, umm, let me rephrase that. Since I have begun keeping bad company I write and collect limericks. Limericks and Tom Swifts seem to go together rather well.
So here is a collection of “Tom Swifts”. Limericks which are built around a “self-referential” pun. None of them were written by me and, although I have recorded the writers in another place, I don’t feel it is necessary to give individual attributions here. After all, once created, good limericks move into the public, oral domain. Nevertheless, thank you, Ericka, Peter, Tiddy, Cybe, Travis and Hugh.
Some of these limericks are possibly not quite required reading for the younger generation so I am going to put them “over the fold”
“Oh, doG, by the Church I’ve been hired,
’cause my singing voice is inspired!
I’ve asked this before,
can’t believe they want more.
Should I do it?” our Tom reinchoired.
Have you a sex life?” i asked quizzically.
Tom shuffled and said aphrodisiacally,
“I’ve only one gal,
And she’s a penpal,
So I’ve not,” he said metaphysically.
With no ceremony to stand on,
Tom knelt, then put Mary’s hand on
His own – Took her fing-
er, put on it a ring.
“I’m engaged!” Mary cried with a-band-on.
Though he was dressed rather nattily,
She dismissed poor Tom quite cattily.
“I’m having an affair
With the gamekeeper there.”
Said the gorgeous lady chatilly.
“I do easy math in my head,
Sum up just as fast as auld Ned.
Take six and add four;
Or eight plus two more;
Is half a score,” Tom often said.
Oh, Bloody old Murphy, he muttered
That law that he shouldn’t have uttered
On rotating toast
It bugs me the most
At breakfast, said Tom, then rebuttered.
“A flat tire is really not fair
Out here in the midst of nowhere.
I’d hitchhike to town
But no one’s around.
I’m screwed!” said Tom, without despair.
In Dee’s massive hOOters so fair
Poor Thomas once struggled for air;
“Can’t breathe ..
[mutter]I need .. [mumble]”
Spluttered Tom in the depths of Dee’s pair.
At the wake poor Tom did collide
With Joe, so he thought he’d confide:
“I tell you, by heck, Joe,
I’m not a gay necro!”
Tom, gravely, in dead earnest, cried.