Definitely Limericks: Ga-Gd

I’m planning a holiday, pal, away
Oot west in the region o’ Galloway,
Where there’s Wigtown, fer books,
A few crannies and nooks,
And a ferry to take me et al. away.

Scotland’s south-westernmost region of Galloway was important in prehistoric times, but these days is a quiet rural setting, known mainly for its ferry town of Stranraer (with sailings to Belfast in Northern Ireland) and the annual Wigtown Book Festival.

The phenomenal show Game of Thrones,
Full of dragons and sex, swords and bones,
Is a binge-watch worth startin’.
Author George R. R. Martin
Keeps us guessing about its unknowns.

Greta’s garbo, or garbage collector,
Had the hots for her junk. He’d inspect ’er
Big bins, then her waste,
And then take it in haste:
Once a week, he would please, then neglect, ’er.

I’ve garnered some valuable clues
From the Big Top: these two flappy shoes,
Size nineteen; this red nose;
And this wig. I suppose
There’s a chance they’re the killer’s, but whose?

Spending time in the garden’s your nadir?
You’re a known anti-courtyard crusader?
If a cloistered enclosure
So shakes your composure,
No wonder you’re called Garth Evader.


Which bodies of ours are gas giants
According to planetary science?
The H/He pattern
Of readings from Saturn
And Jupiter show their compliance.

Saturn and Jupiter consist mainly of hydrogen and helium, making them the Solar System’s two gas giants.

Uncle Hamish asked, “Whit is wrang, lassie?”
Said Morag, “Mah tummy is gassy.”
Said Hamish, “That rumbling’s
A haggis’s mumblings.”
Wee Morag said, “Dinnae be assy.”

Soon the best chefs of Europe will know
My new cake is the finest gâteau!
It’s a cherry-topped dream
Filled with chocolate and cream,
As they’ll never have seen... before... oh.

The Gatling gun rattled and whirled,
As its multiple barrels unfurled
A profusion of rounds,
To the horrible sounds
Of the imminent end of the world.

“Life is ever so happy and gay!”
Was once hard for a gay man to say.
Now he’s shouting out loud,
“I’m queer, and I’m proud:
We’re here, and not going away.”

As for queer, its malevolent use
By the cruel as a term of abuse
Has been turned on its head
By its targets; instead,
It’s a call to resist, not a noose.

When you’re driving along on the straight
And the lorry you pass has a plate
With the letters GB,
Call out, “God save the Queeeeeee...”
’Cos its driver thinks Britain is great.

The spies who love snooping on you
Aren’t James Bond—they’re at GCHQ.
If you’re browsing in Britain,
Encryption—or quittin’—
Will kill off their licence to view.

GDP rises indicate growth
In a country’s economy—both
Goods’ and services’ value
Combined. So, then, shall you
Work harder, or venerate sloth?

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