Definitely Limericks: Ag-Ah
A burglar in Rome filled his bag
With a surfeit of silvery swag.
“All the aurum’s a bore,
But I simply adore
The argentum (in shorter form, Ag).”
Devotees of the Omnificent Periodic Table of Elements
in Limerick Form might prefer to pronounce it ay gee.
There isn’t a malady dreamier.
One’s blood is without
Antibodies, no doubt,
But it beats getting bloody leukemia.
Old age is no safeguard from folly,
So grandads should never be “jolly”.
Too often, the rule
Is you’ll look like a fool,
And your grandkids will say, “Off his trolley!”
Thanks to PGS for the inspiration. (I don’t actually mind
overly jolly grandfathers myself, but at 13 might have
thought differently. Kids today, I don’t know...)
Agene once whitened our flour,
But we use less and less by the hour,
’Cos this chemical stuff
Is just not up to snuff
Now that genes are the germ of our power.
When she learned he had crossed a clear line—
Former East German agent, the swine!—
Ilse cancelled their tryst.
Yet she couldn’t resist
That unspeakable ex-Stasi, nein.
All the protests proclaimed it a crime
To employ Agent Orange—big time.
But we know that’s absurd:
We had Kissinger’s word!
(Bet he never employed it in rhyme.)
You reckon it aggravates? Wait—
What you mean there is “irritate”, mate.
Pay heed, girls and boys:
While to “aggravate” worsens that state.
Young Agnes, a martyr and saint,
Thought marriage had too great a taint,
And on heavenly urgin’
Remained as a virgin:
Your patron, if bonking you ain’t.
Agnes, killed in 4th century Rome at age 12, is the patron saint
A Christian says, “Go, Jesus, go!”
While an atheist argues, “God, no.”
But rather less caustic
Is someone agnostic,
Who just says, “Oh, I wouldn’t know.”
If you’re after a rodent of beauty,
The best you can get’s an agouti.
It’s an awfully big
Kinda faux guinea pig,
And my goodness, Miss Piggy’s a cutie.
Astronauts, please all take note:
The things into space that you tote,
Which stay safe and sound
Way down here on the ground,
In agravic environments, float.
Like to watch some mad cows do some harm?
Or a cockerel that fights like a charm?
For a full-on domestic,
This tourism’s best—
They’re an agro lot, down on the farm.
For the best in agrotourism, try a British farm, where a domestic (disturbance) always involves a bit of aggro.
“Now I don’t want you fretting, Mama,
But I heard Father crashed our new car.
No, no, no, no, he’s fine!
He just drank too much wine.”
She replied, with such Englishness, “Ah.”
“Aha!” you exclaim in surprise
When you cannot quite credit your eyes.
It’s what you might say
At some curious display,
Or upon being told something wise.
If someone insists categorical
That Hitler consulted an oracle
Who said he’d get stronger
I tell ’em that sounds ahistorical.
So the story is, Oliver Twist
Was ahungered, and couldn’t subsist;
And was heard to implore,
“Oh please, sir, some more.”
In seventeen words, that’s the gist.