I was musing once again on verse encountered in childhood, and memorised without understanding. As you do, on dull afternoons when you’ve nothing better to do than count the hours between Beechams ‘Flu Powders.
My father, bless him, suffers from an utterly uncensored and unhindered connection between his mouth and his hind-brain. While perfectly able to speak or not speak on most matters, anything unsuitable, pas-devant-les-domestiques, unsavoury or liable to offend will be said. Loudly. In front of nuns and vicars and small and inquisitive children. This is the man who, when I was sixteen, told me what contraceptives he was using with his new girlfriend. And who amiably referred to his infant grand-child as ‘a little fucker’ in front of his understandably startled daughter-in-law.
Anyway. He has a penchant for dirty limericks, and one in particular that I remember him standing in the middle of the living room and chanting for us, blushing and beginning to giggle as he did so, because, oh yes, he knew he was being naughty:
From the depths of the crypt at St Giles
Came a scream that resounded for miles.
Said the vicar, ‘Good gracious!
Has Father Ignatius
Forgotten the bishop has piles?’
Why on earth were all the adults laughing and protesting through the laughter? Me? Oh, I was eight. I was baffled. Vicars are funny? And piles? What’s a pile? Why is everyone refusing to tell me? After deep cogitation, I decided that anything to do with screaming in crypts had to be about vampires, and that the adults didn’t want to frighten me by talking about them, especially as I tended to react badly to the Addams Family, let alone Dracula. And I knew what a pile-driver was, so a pile must be another word for stake, and that’s it, Father Ignatius was a vampire who fell into the trap the bishop in his great holy wisdom had set for him in the crypt he had to retire to every morning. With lots of piles. Ha! to you, adults, for I am clever enough to work it out all by my self. And until the age of (oh God) fifteen or so, that’s what I believed it was about.
A limerick about vampires.
Indeed.
I love your innocent interpretation. And your father’s idea of an appropriate verse to entertain the family with cracks me up. My father is the family joker too; usually too busy being the hilarious centre of attention to do any actual parenting. However, now that I no longer need him around to wipe my nose, we get on fine, and I enjoy his sense of humour.
Left by Charlotte on October 12th, 2006
Still laughing, both at the limerick and your ingenious interpretation.
Left by healingmagichands on October 12th, 2006
Heh! This post knocked me out of my near comatose torpor and raised a big laugh. My mum tried to train my dad not to tell dirty jokes but it didn’t 100% work. Every now and again I’ll come out with some filthy line and my husband will look at me resignedly and say: “You learnt that from your dad, didn’t you?”
Ooh, vampires, I’ve got a phobia of them. Not that they exist but I couldn’t read or watch Dracula, even now.
Left by Helen on October 12th, 2006
I cannot resist - - -
The vampires would scare little Reed
In no way would she be their feed
But priests in their crypts
Where blood redly drips
Would slay them when there was a need.
And no, I won’t repeat my favourite limericks in public
Left by archie on October 13th, 2006
I do love limericks - the ruder, the better.
Left by Teuchter on October 13th, 2006
*snork*
*resists urge to just start posting unsuitable limericks*
*wonders if her sexual and emotional development was scarred by the book of dirty limericks and the other book of bawdy verse she read in the loo as a child*
*concludes it may well have been, but who cares*
Left by AB on October 13th, 2006
Oh all right then, just for you guys, my two favourite dirty limericks:
There was a young fellow called Menzies,
Whose kissing sent girls into frenzies,
Until a virgin one night
Crossed her legs in a fright
And fractured his bi-focal lenses.
And
A certain young man I’m not namin’
Said to the flapper he thought he was tamin’
‘Have you your maidenhead?’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said,
‘But I still have the box that it came in.’
And to think there isn’t even any gin in the house…
Left by Reed on October 13th, 2006
So what is the limerick about if it’s not vampires?
*looks innocent*
Left by Singing Librarian on October 13th, 2006
I thought it may have been this one - - -
For the tenth time, dull Daphnis, said Chloe’
You have told me my bosom is snowy;
You have made much verse on
Each part of my person,
Now DO something - there’s a good boy.
My favourite modern limerick comes with an aside at the end - - -
While playing strip poker with Kate
I found I’d developed a straight
But only to six
And Katie restricts
Her folds to those with an eight - - -
So I tossed in my hand!
Left by archie on October 14th, 2006
Very funny post. If only this had been the case in my family but alas, my parents are claustrophobically polite. It would have been good for someone to be cheeky every once in a while.
Left by Litlove on October 16th, 2006
My favourite filthy limerick is, unfortunately, far too filthy to post here and doesn’t even have the redeeming feature of being clever; it’s just filthy.
I’ll give you the first line - and you can use your imagination.
There was a young man from Nantucket……………
Left by Teuchter on October 20th, 2006