- This topic has 327 replies, 15 voices, and was last updated 12 years, 3 months ago by
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@tim Perhaps a new Video Blog episode??
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@ckoei – thought you would come up with some good ‘uns!
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@ckoei – Pmsl! I love it!
A South African girl named Cecile
Put out a global appeal,
She just wanted to wheedle
An insulin needle,
That when stuck in she just wouldn’t feel. -
There once was a lad from Dundee
Who used MDI therapy
For a pump he did ask
Put his nurse to the task
But she just said ‘We’ll just wait and see…’‘We’ll put your name down on the list.’
At this our young lad did get pissed.
So he wrote loads of letters
To his elders and betters
But he might just as well have knit mist.So he waited, ’till cometh the day
When the call came ‘We’re happy to say’
Come November you’ll get
What you haven’t had yet
You pump finally is on its way!’ -
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Lol! These are great! Love ’em
Just wish I had some skill with words :S
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The black Accu-Chek Compact Plus
Is almost as big as a bus,
But it still sucks your blood,
N’ gives the figures it should
So I don’t see why @Tim makes a fuss. -
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@teloz Love the last one Terry!!
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Wow these are great but I’m rather impressed with @Teloz these last few are brilliant!
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@teloz: Can’t say I pissed myself, ’cause I have aged parent’s TENAs at my disposal, but I’m still laughing
(while also vomiting – I’m on hypo-heave sick leave, but go, go Collinguam!) -
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Poor @ckoei is not very well
She’s heaving her lungs up as well.
Add the sad fact
her urinary tract
Is leaking, but no one can tell. -
Thanks everyone, but when you’re on a roll you just have to go with it! You may have noticed that I love limericks, but it’s hard to keep up with you @ckoei, you crack me up!
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While poor @ckoei is barfing her beer
I find it incredibly queer
That she still has the means
To write limericks in reams
‘Cos she thinks that I’m having a leer.Us gnomes are much nicer than that
Her back needs a rub and a pat.
I’d help out if I could,
As anyone would,
But sadly I’m not where she’s at. -
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@annette: LOL (again)
If diabetes brings blackest despair,
Limerickan salvation is here:
After green jelly Queens
And Indian beans,
A barfing bonanza will bring up some cheerLimericks might have some other medical significance: while lowing about quite a lot these last few days, I’ve noticed that when I’m going down, it becomes increasingly difficult to read the limericks rhythmically “right” (especially the lady with the bosom…) So if you don’t have CGM, keep these babies close at hand. And for hypers, you’ll have to start writing haikus
) -
@teloz: What happened to “the dog’s danglies”? It still appears in “Activity”, but here on home ground, you seemed to have spayed it
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@ckoei – I don’t know what happened, I did delete one of my less salubrious efforts, but I didn’t mean to castrate the dog. He’s now fully recovered!
An insulin pump is the best,
The bugger is never at rest.
With pretties and spanglies
It’s just the dog’s danglies
But of course, you still have to test. -
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@teloz: Oops, my bud-nipping terminology is a bit muddled…but with dog dangling along so merrily again, I hope that the bitch (called hyperglycaemia) is castrated!
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Metformin and Gliclazide
Are distributed far and wide,
To curb the blood glucose,
And systemic sucrose,
Of T2s on a slow downward slide.Please, can I stop now? My brain is inundated by limericks, it’s all your fault @Tim!
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Talking of pricks,
I use* Multiclix:
Just a roll of its barrel
And the old ones skedaddle;
With settings for deep or the slightest of snicks.*Where “use” doesn’t imply self-gratification, though all of Accu-Chek’s repertoire resemble hobbit-dildos. My current favourite (as far as suggestive shape goes), is Bayer’s Ascencia Microlet – it looks like something you could shave your legs with, one hair at a time
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@Tim – Well… sadly, it is diabetes related, diabetic neuropathy can be very cruel, and if my lewd little limericks can forewarn the younger men of the perils of poor control it would make me very happy. Let’s be honest, they’re only a tingey-whingey bit ribald.
Now… can I find two words to rhyme with neuropathy…
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Retinopathy?
Homeopathy?
Allopathy?
(And one maybe just made for @teloz) Erotopathy -
Bureaucracy? (As uttered by a Discworldian Igor…and have your brolly at the ready
)When foot nerves to death go a-scurry
It feels like your foot’s full of curry.
But imipramine
Will soothingly clean
All feeling of fire in a hurry*.*Make that about 3 weeks. A few months later, the affected neurons will be as dead as doornails and as @teloz says, “neuropathy don’t really hurt”…but it does kill the albatross!
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“Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns;
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.I pass, like night, from land to land;
I have strange power of speech;
That moment that his face I see,
I know the man that must hear me:
To him my tale I teach.”
(The Rime of the Ancient Mariner; Samuel Taylor Coleridge)Damn that albatross; I can stand the smell, but the maggots drive me crazy!
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@teloz – he he he!
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It is an ancient diabetic
And he stoppeth one in three
‘By thy cold grey toes and failing eyes,
Have you a pump for me?’The doctor’s doors are opened wide
He is the next one in,
So down he sits, and then lets rip,
Give me some insulin! -
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@hils – very good!!
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@teloz: Re “reduction in heat”,
If a bride/groom’s feet has to be cold
To keep all those microbes on hold,
Diabetics can’t marry,
In limbo they’ll tarry,
Or give up a limb if they fold?(or they can wash their feet in a lukewarm & weak saline solution to bugger up infective single cells’ osmotic balance…and live happily&cosy-toed ever after
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There was a diabetic named Tim
Whose view of pump funding was dim
They told him to wait
His health left to fate
But at least he’s got a cannula in! -
@charlie – he he he!
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There was a young woman with high
Blood sugars, and so she would die
But with Medical Support
And DAFNE self taught
She might diabetes defy!! -
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There was a young lady, Cecile,
Who carb counted before every meal
Despite insulin flowing
She knew where her blood sugars were going
Thanks to Tim, and his ContourUSB deal!! -
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@teloz – he he! I like that one!
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A self-suckling*, parched diabetic
Can be salted and dished up as fesikh:
When ground to a paste,
What glorious taste
Is that sweet-saline, sure-fire emetic**!*All those fingertipsy bloodhounds among us
**Guaranteed to get rid of sugar (and everything else) -
The pancreatic god SusAnthony*
Got split into 2 below the knee:
While Su sugars on,
Ant’s footing has gone,
So it’s better to worship our BrownFinney.*For the sake of Calvinistic monotheism & limerickan rhythm, Susan (Sugar upping sauce after nilpermouth/glucagon) and Anthony (Anti-honey/insulin) had to be fused… and stuff somatostatin!
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A giraffe gave a covetous sigh,
’cause its blood glucose was always high:
“Being a gnome
(or a miniature poem),
You’ll be low even if you eat pie*…”*specifically, apple turnovers
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@alison: You still owe us at least 27 – all Shoot Up members are obliged to write as many limericks/haiku(s) as years since they’ve been diagnosed (and those who’ve had it for less than 20 yrs are bound by their genetic propensity to go back to their conception…so one poem will only have to be 9/12 or 3/4 of a full one
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@ckoei So not only do I have to have an annual eye/foot/kidney/blood pressure/everything else check, I now need to add limerick composition to the list? These diabetes complications are getting out of control!
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@alison: If you want to complain, do it in rhyme (AABBA). And to placate Shoot Up’s bisexual pancreatic god(s) Susan & Anthony/BrownFinney, your (and everyone else’s) tally has just gone up to 32 (after adding Tim’s few drops)…she she she, thank goodness I’ve got limerickpathy
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I thought having diabetes wasn’t too bad
Until @ckoei made me so sad
If bad eyes and kidneys weren’t complications enough
I now find there’s even more stuff
Like writing enough damn limericks to drive you mad -
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Okay, it’s not a limerick, but…
ODE TO A NEWLY DIAGNOSED DIABETIC
When your numbers keep on climbing
And your thirst wont go away
If your vision goes all blurry
Then you’re hyper on that day.
If you feel a little shaky
Once your levels start to drop
If your brain won’t think in straight lines
Glucose will, the hypo, stop.
Once your HBAs are stable
At a number close to 6
When your post meals levels hover
Close to 8, you’ve found the fix!
When your food intake and dosage
Of the insulin you need
Have been tested, checked and sorted
You’re in charge – you take the lead!
Soon you’ll know as much as they do
If you do your research well
Your control will be in your hands
– go and give those ‘experts’ hell! -
For when you’re hypo, and prone to cussing
Add some FPs to your washing.
Then drink that effluent, slimy jelly
(Thanks to soap, it isn’t smelly):
It’ll smack your gob and stop ears blushing… -
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In the Martian city of L’Aventis,
You can perambulate with holey panties
And Lantus your bum…
But Apidra your tum
For those Mars bars’ feasts of plenties. -
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@ckoei some of these make my head hurt
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@ckoei – Pfft!
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@ckoei‘s a very nice girl
But her mind is all in a whirl.
Writing Limericks galore
She could be a bore,
But instead she’s a poetic pearl -
After pinpointy piercing by Singer,
Your clothes think: “In safety we linger”,
But what have we here…
An insulin spear?
You merciless mercery stinger! -
And specially for @katie,
Being stabbed by a needling Bernina,
For your garb is just a beginner:
If you inject through your clothes,
You add to their woes –
To textiles you cannot be meaner. -
You’re likely to go hypo at Morecambe:
Potted shrimps haven’t got much carbs on ’em.
For a taste of what’s rich,
Plunge into Blackpoolish pitch –
A dip in that treacle will score some. -
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When courting a testy D-lass,
Make sure your sweet-talk’s not too crass:
With umpteenth innuendo
About needles doing what men do,
You’ll have plentiful pricks come to pass. -
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My BGs have got writer’s block:
Block block block block block block.
Block block block block block bloc,
Block block block block block bloc…
Block block block block block block block block!It looks like a neat & stable 5 high…just wish I could get some writer’s mortar, too –
they’re so easily flattened to the floor or piled into towering heaps without it. -
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The reason CGM glucose sensors
Can’t be dished out by medicine dispensers,
Is that the BBC’s* got
The whole blooming lot:
Some six hundred’s employed as censors!!!!!!!*Poor things are tortured into dropping their esses by means of endless repetition of the spell “be…be…cee!”
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@brickwall – sorry about the gender confusion, but you have to admit your avatar isn’t very helpful, that’ll teach me to do more research! Anyway, my derogatory ditty has been duly corrected.
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A diabetic cockroach, Grigori’s
Staple foods were sweets & liquorice.
He’s now got six feet under
And ommatidia all asunder –
Thank goodness he can’t move to where that sticker is. -
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When bugged by a plethora of plugs
Used to bung up infusion set mugs,
With a dollop of glue
They’ll be baubles anew:
Some seasonal finery for your fir (of Doug’s). -
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Are you sick & tired of test prickles?
Nip tiny bits off Terry’s testicles;
Shoot them up in your back
And prevent immune flak:
Send your T-cells on their sabbaticals. -
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Tim’s diabetic top tip
Is get Engelbert driving your ship
At first he injected
But now that’s rejected
And now they are joined at the hip. -
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Good gracious! So @tim is a hippie?
Continuously out on a drippy trip, he?
No more pens that are swords
To strike my empathy chords
And no more reason to be dippy? -
It’s taken me years for the penny to drop
On how to hitch pump to your midriffic cob:
With a CLICK, THUNK and cry, Oh!
Of Oh-my, Oh-mio!
It seems like quite a handful…or would that be a bob? -
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My BGs are such unruly kids:
Supposed to stay safe & sound in the mids,
But they’re drawn like dog hairs
To carpeted stairs –
Up and down all day long…foolish gits! -
My BGs drive me up the wall
When they upwardly climb & downwardly fall.
For their ups, there is insulin;
For their downs, I put sweeties in…
So Humpty’s got a mattress* and a mound, few bricks tall.*made of marshmallow
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Neuropathy now gets accused
‘Cause @teloz‘s bum is abused.
Rather glare at your Croc:
It turns floor into bog –
You wouldn’t get glued if you were differently shoesed. -
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The NHS’s newest way to skive
And make all Type Two BGs dive,
Is to give them a shoe
Made of concrete & glue…
You might end up* with a mermaid wife.*or is it down…at Morecambe?
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Limericks aren’t supposed to be flaunt lit:
A throwing down of the verbal gauntlet…
These long-distance strolls
Through diabetic dust bowls
Were meant to be jolly & frolicking jaunt* lit(?)*Of course, you’re going to have to get rid of those cumbersome, concrete clonkers and clap on Crocs (after slipping out of scratchy, sad sackcloth**)
**This is a not very subtle challenge to see who can compose the most alliterative limerick…and I urge other members to join the fray – we’ll need a sizable army to conquer @teloz on that front
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My BGs are blooming bumbling bees,
Can’t crank out honey, ’cause they’ve lost the keys:
Niggling insulin’s nigh
So glucagon has gone shy;
Fall down the flue to bounce* back to your knees.*compliments of adrenaline
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Fruit Pastilles fit in a feline Fleur bag
& Give good grounds to gallivant through the Gulag.
Halt happy hard labour!
Insulin is in favour:
Jam down those jujubes to jellify your JET LAG*.*Jackhammering Exertions To blame (for) Low Arterial Glucose
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@annette: It’s unfair, you’ve got an alliterative name & surname!
From Queen Victoria’s ball,
You’ll make an enormous haul
Of pancreatic betas
With which they can treat us
To prevent our il&merickal fall.I know, I know, I don’t refer to anything in the text above, but as footnote I was extremely affronted by @teloz‘s unwelcoming words…I thought that for diabetes limericks, we might indicate that they weren’t amputees?
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Pachyderms who pump, get pierced with a porcpin:
That queasy quilting-with-a-quill is quartan.
The range* includes “Rhino”
And slender, svelte “Spino“;
If their tummies are tallowed, it might take a tall ‘un.*currently available are “Porcupine” (middling), “Rhino”(robust), “Spino”(lengthy), “Sugarbird”(ideal for hyperglycaemic fine artists) and “Kudu”(if you’re kinky)
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Dig into tens of tubs of DIABICE:
It’s refreshingly light, and rather nice.
To prevent this delight
From causing frostbite,
Add a tiny tinge of chilli spice. -
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If nude DIABICE should give you the shivers,
Try the new kind with Fruit Pastille slivers.
You’ll be burning more fuel
Eating stuff with a chill:
Some sweetness might help out your dozy D liver(s). -
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@stephen has mislaid his Mio –
He now has to use a corkscrew
To put in that pipe
Close to his tripe
And hope that his spirit stays VO*.*Very Obliging
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If being pronged makes you smart,
You can now perhaps take heart:
Don’t cover your balls –
This clever dick calls
For nanotech’s little-speck art. -
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Type Twos without shoes
Endanger their toes…
Leaving their digs,
Out to get cigs:
Zip up, or a foot they might lose. -
my BGs are metric’ly measured in
minute female bits of gangster’s kin.
over the pond
lasses respond
/Like ladies of bounty: one’s like eighteen!(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) -
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Crustaceans are much trickier:
Resort to technologic’ gear.
A scale that totes
Bazillion notes
Should satisfy a picky ea’r*.*eater
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Bloody bovine udder
Licked clean – it makes me shudder!
Onwards it goes:
Our @alison‘s cows
Drop blood to fill and flood her… -
A handful of singles
Should save your toes’ tingles.
Heave you a five
Every mo you’re alive:
Smear fielders, Vaseline Girls*!*A troupe of overalled ladies armed with jars of petroleum jelly & brushes, who’ll ensure that not just the slips’ paws are slippery…oh, and they’re usually referred to as the Balmy Army
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If feeling a bit saltcellary
And assaultive towards the jellery,
It’s easy to know
Your BG is low:
Eggs’ll give it wings, says @bellebe . -
Terry’s laid hands on a Walkman*
That as limbs go, has far less than…
It’s got a cassette
For hits of lancet –
If it wasn’t so heavy, it could cancan.*rhyming crimes already committed when Wikipedia informed me that Sony marketed it as a “Stowaway” in the UK
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Glucose can now make you glow,
So if your power supply’s so-so,
Just swallow sweet sop –
In a blink, you’ll light up
And bedazzle your gloomy chateau. -
If pump pouch needs a tummy tuck
After years of bearing all that muck,
It might droop in lavvy
‘Cause its load’s so heavy:
Some nip&tuck…and it’s out of kak! -
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Should your raiment get soppily wet
When you hypo and start spouting sweat,
Ask Marilyn Monroe
Where she got that airflow:
It’ll blow you as dry as crispbread. -
Thanks to @lizz‘s and @stephen‘s mention of lipohypertrophy of injection sites, my lady’s are up for expansion:
A lady shot up in her bosom
To enlarge her chest-dwelling twosome:
“If my feet I can’t see,
Less worries for me –
I never would know if I lose ’em…” -
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@teloz needs a new ‘ron –
His are off, with few on.
Now willy’s nilly
And feet feel chilli:
Rewire Juan to cure Don. -
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If elephant or if orange,
Use a long one – perhaps a four inch
To get insulin
Through your ???????* skin:
Hush, it sounds too foreign…sh!*Drat BuddyPress! Supposed to be Cyrillic characters that denote “thick” in Russian
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Always being decked out in furs
Prods your absorption with spurs.
If your wardrobe is bare
Of clothes blessed with hair,
Carry hot dogs in your purse. -
To keep your BG in line
And stop that sugarbird flyin’,
Tip a table that Trotts –
With no fast, sweet shots
As quick as Kevin O’Brien. -
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There once was a diabetic call Chris
Who was quite bad and had sugary P***
He never tested
The doctor requested
But he wont cause he is a lazy S***Sorry for the swearing but i literally couldnt think of anything else that rhymed!
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If you’re a travelling meter
Who longs to snooze by the heater,
This sleeping bag could
Be worn like suit,
And make your life much sweeter. -
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To pump, you’ll pay top dollar:
Your neck will need white collar
To afford this machine…
If your purse is quite lean,
Look here to shout and holler. -
In order for @tim to be hugged,
Use Humalog to get him drugged:
While out cold & low,
Squeeze him like dough…
Wear earplugs – he might just eruct*.*caused by beer-o’clock
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There’s lots of less- and lottery
When you are blessed with honeyed pee…
Twixt o-point-six
And thirty thrix,
What’s odds of on-the-dot BG? -
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At a frightening one point three
She was sweating and shivery
But pancakes and syrup
Brought her sugar way up
And now she’s a hyper lady -
If CGM gets laryngitis
And can’t scream when your BG slight is,
A drop of blue Bols
Might restore its loud calls
By cooling those vocal cord blighters… -
These lines belong to one of @teloz ‘s imaginary PumpPets:
My nightie I’ve toodle-oo kissed:
Henceforth, I shall be a gnudist…
Though I’ll keep on my hose
To deliver that dose,
And stop me becoming too pissed*.*polyuric
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Use calculating wizard
When stuffing stuff in gizzard…
No matter you’re dumb –
Let pump do the sum:
Knowing what dose is his art. -
A diabetic stunner
Can’t get rats to shun her.
That murine lot
Gives her the NOD:
Her Cozmouse…always on her. -
For diabetic bondage,
Use tubing to make fond hitch –
But first be assured
That pump can be moored:
“With strings my Pod is non-rich.” -
“Doctor, my ‘bedes is briddle –
Daylong, an up & down fiddle!”
“Forsake your rebounder:
No more you’ll flounder…
Get off, and stay in the middle.” -
There was a Scottish farmer
Who also was embalmer:
“My glaur-covered palms
Will sully my balms –
This’ll make corpses feel calmer.” -
When modelling stuff that is haute,
Damned is the digit with spot…
Though if I was Doulton,
And selling a salt tin,
I’d pay tons for @tim‘s pepper pot. -
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Pumpers are such idiots,
Getting bummed by many bits…
Perhaps pens might restore
Their heads’ IQ score:
We “writers” are all brainy twits -
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@ckoei‘s* tireless it seems,
Writing ludicrous limericks in reams.
She never will rest,
She’s one of the best,
She’s writing them all in her dreams!*Pronounce as “At-seekie” to make the rhyme scan.
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You’ll have an insulin stash
In giving your bangers* a mash:
Enough for a Pygmy…
Though if you’re a big me,
You also should squeeze your kolbász.*just for this limerick’s sake, assume that sausages contain porcine pancreas
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While Kate can dump trained gown in bag,
The ‘betes is always a drag…
We can’t just ask Harry
This damn thing to carry:
We’re fettered, like Terry to fag. -
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A nasty ophthalmo imposter
Got hold of the poor Earl of Gloucester:
“Your eyes I’ll take, fellow –
Their yolks* are all yellow…
And wife whines ’cause eggs so much cost her.”*caused by oedematic maculae, with “hard yellow exudates”
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If you find your pen a bit thick,
And yearn for an object more sleek,
Feed it to a dachshund
Whose sphincters are not ruined:
You’ll have to put up with some reek. -
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This one has to be read with a “lithp”:
You’ll AGE quite fast when dancing
The two-step with that prancing
Thug, Amadori…
This sorry love story
Will make your health a gone thing. -
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While bumbling ’bout the mall,
Your BG’s bound to fall…
When it nearly two is,
Beware of John Lewis:
Aim here when you do sprawl. -
You perhaps should put your date
On scales to check its weight:
Too much of such fruits
Might empty your boots
And leave you with blind pate. -
A bovine beast, whose calves
Cried “Cramps! Smear some smooth salves!”,
Ignored them with sigh:
“With glucose sky-high,
We’re cut out for sweet Bovs.” -
This illness, where betas withdrew,
Can vertic’ly challenge us, too…
Keep it short and sweet:
Get rid of your feet,
And dare not don platformal shoe. -
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Insulinic resistance
In gnohms has great persistance:
To give them enough
Fast-acting stuff,
Their pumps will need of these tins. -
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A diabetic looker
Could flash her boobs like hooker…
Those sparkling signs
Meant sweet declines:
You shouldn’t have mistook her. -
A pimp* said: “I need basal rates
To pay for the beds of my maids.
An upstanding bolus
Is short and is soulless:
My poor dears need rest when it late’s”.*compliments of @annette‘s lovely mobile typing
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When ‘betes was still juvenile,
It daily suckled at a phial.
It’s now gone to school
Where it makes pens drool
Some lines ’bout its unbeta’d isle. -
To stop your pen’s hot flushes
And keep it young and luscious,
Stick it in dondurma:
It’s always much firmer
Than stuff that melts and slush is. -
Should your forehead be tattooed
‘Cause your betas are kaput,
A loud brass bell
This fact can tell
If all’s hidden ‘hind that hood. -
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“A true tasteful girl with Type 1
Should not flaunt her flavour, my son:
Her highs and her lows,
Her rank rotten toes
Polite conversation should shun.”**expressing opinion of recently terrestrial creature from the Devonian era
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A thrifty ‘betic vicar
Reused his finger pricker:
“Its drums aren’t cheap –
I’d rather keep
My cash…and buy some liquor*.”*or cigarettes, if you’re @teloz
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A fine bar called “The Banting Arms“
Is always bound to line all palms
With Diet Coke
That tastes of oak:
“It’s lo-cal, milked from stringy marms”. -
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There can’t be things much scarier
Than sniffers of the derrière:
Smell pabulum
Along with bum
If you’re a pumping terrier. -
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A diabetic Nazi
Prevented mixing parts…he
Let no foreign
Fluids pour in:
His foot you’ll in this shot see. -
When visiting a restaurant,
Make sure you’ve got a breast implant*
Of functional betas
That guarantees eaters
A steady stream to bear the brunt.*a new Medtronic device, the Mamma Mio, consisting of a Mamma (breast pump) and a Mio (infusion set)…now how’s that for paying tribute to 2 of Shoot Up’s pet obsessions?
-
A diaMacbethic lady
Found her bloody hands too weighty:
She milked them bone dry,
Their gore used as dye
To pep up this bag by Katie. -
To hack a pump, get ready
And sharpen your machete…
With some sure strokes
And well-aimed pokes,
You’ll cleave it like spaghetti. -
Make sure your tum’s a washboard
If subcut stuff’s to be poured.
Check that it’s not
A plump, soft cot
That slowed down sauce ’til it snored. -
-
By means of Diabete-o-Tron,
All bother in a flash be gone…
It won’t help to bolt:
Its AI* assault
Will knock you back like tea and scone.*Artificial Intelligence, that hopefully doesn’t turn AutoImmune
-
-
This poem has got a complaint:
Its _etas now _asically ain’t…
So take of its “p“
And tip it…you’ll see
A substitute that’s just as quaint. -
Just hope that your partner’s invisible
When you are in need of a fruit pastille,
Else the DVLA
You of licence might spay:
Which leaves you sedan chair or bicycle. -
The shape of your waves should portray
Which foodstuffs you daily foray:
A syrupy sarmie
Will need a tsunami;
Slight swell’s good for rhubarb sorbet. -
-
Your DUK does eDUKate
By telling you to lose some…wait:
Don’t have lots to byte,
You will lose your site
If you’ve bitten more than 8. -
If you’ve had a close-to-nil low,
You’ll be left with sodden pillow:
To banish its sweat,
Just bake it like bread
‘Til it’s toasted armadillo. -
-
When islets Bees do demote,
You’ll find a willing scapegoat
In the PPS:
“We gladly confess
To not providing lifeboat.” -
Does blood sugar play baritone?
Chew pastilles to lift low-pitched groan,
Until it becomes
A tenor…those gums
Should then in cuspidor be thrown. -
-
-
A diabetic Android
Became quite cross & annoyed:
“You’ll need to shoot
Up for such fruit
‘Til purse is left bare and void.” -
Adrenals will awaken
If you eat too much bacon…
Make sure your bites
Are sans nitrites
For safe, swinetic slakin’.@ladyupnorth, you are now obliged to try some bacon “sans nitrites” and inform us via limerick of what happened.
-
This day*, in 1922,
A shot stopped Thompson’s trip to loo…
That bovine slug
Is now old drug:
At present, we milk GM gnu.*11/01/12
-
her?
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