Courtesy of child_lit:
Two limericks off Prufrock:
A man did not dare eat a peach
But he wore trousers rolled at the beach.
Women walked to and fro
Saying, "Mike Angelo"
And he heard mermaids call each to each.
An angst-ridden amorist Fred
Saw sartorial changes ahead.
His ears started ringing
With fishy girls singing.
Soft fruit also filled him with dread.
+++
Waste Land Limericks
by Wendy Cope
I
In April one seldom feels cheerful;
Dry stones, sun and dust make me fearful;
Clairvoyantes distress me,
Commuters depress me–
Met Stetson and gave him an earful.
II
She sat on a mighty fine chair,
Sparks flew as she tidied her hair;
She asks many questions,
I make few suggestions–
Bad as Albert and Lil–what a pair!
III
The Thames runs, bones rattle, rats creep;
Tiresias fancies a peep–
A typist is laid,
A record is played–
Wei la la. After this it gets deep.
IV
A Phoenician named Phlebas forgot
About birds and his business–the lot,
Which is no surprise,
Since he'd met his demise
And been left in the ocean to rot.
V
No water. Dry rocks and dry throats,
Then thunder, a shower of quotes
From the Sanskrit and Dante.
Da. Damyata. Shantih.
I hope you'll make sense of the notes.
+++
He deserves this. But also: The Four Quartets.
Two limericks off Prufrock:
A man did not dare eat a peach
But he wore trousers rolled at the beach.
Women walked to and fro
Saying, "Mike Angelo"
And he heard mermaids call each to each.
An angst-ridden amorist Fred
Saw sartorial changes ahead.
His ears started ringing
With fishy girls singing.
Soft fruit also filled him with dread.
+++
Waste Land Limericks
by Wendy Cope
I
In April one seldom feels cheerful;
Dry stones, sun and dust make me fearful;
Clairvoyantes distress me,
Commuters depress me–
Met Stetson and gave him an earful.
II
She sat on a mighty fine chair,
Sparks flew as she tidied her hair;
She asks many questions,
I make few suggestions–
Bad as Albert and Lil–what a pair!
III
The Thames runs, bones rattle, rats creep;
Tiresias fancies a peep–
A typist is laid,
A record is played–
Wei la la. After this it gets deep.
IV
A Phoenician named Phlebas forgot
About birds and his business–the lot,
Which is no surprise,
Since he'd met his demise
And been left in the ocean to rot.
V
No water. Dry rocks and dry throats,
Then thunder, a shower of quotes
From the Sanskrit and Dante.
Da. Damyata. Shantih.
I hope you'll make sense of the notes.
+++
He deserves this. But also: The Four Quartets.