Whatcom limericks overflowing for St. Patrick’s Day
Bellingham Herald readers once again expressed their enthusiasm for St. Patrick’s Day by sharing limericks they have written. Read and enjoy.
Consider the look of Lynette
An occasion you won’t soon forget,
For her eyes and her smile
Were designed to beguile,
Every man that she’s ever met.
John Lee, Bellingham
There once was a guy named Dave
Who looked like he lived in a cave
He was loved by his wife
For the rest of his life
Great joy to each other they gave
Diane Knutson, Ferndale
There once was a man named O’Brian
Whose best pal was Paddy O’Ryan
After fishin’ they’d go
To the pub - don’t cha know
And spend the time braggin’ and lyin’
Mary Aemmer, Bellingham
The bubbles in good champagne wine,
Bring joy when all revelers dine.
But the Irish would say
That on St. Paddy’s Day,
The bubbles in beer are just fine!
Mark M. Schlichting, Bellingham
A Bellingham gal relished rain,
which drove her black Lab so insane
that he’d pout like a lout
and refuse to go out
until the sun shimmered again.
Susan Chase-Foster, Bellingham
Subdued city people were keen
to copy St. Pat’s party scene —
a wild bingo night
brought yawns by first light,
giddy giving way to serene
Tim Pilgrim, Bellingham
Full-figured Betty
came up from the jetty
And oh what a dress she was wearin’
“I can see,” said she,
“That you’re lookin’ at me”
And I said, “I’m not lookin’, I’m starin’
Mary Aemmer, Bellingham
They said, “Ski to Sea is here to stay!
Climate change, pshaw, not till Judgment Day.”
But the snow turned to rocks,
And the waves hit the docks,
Leaving the skeptics to run the relay.
Riley Sweeney, Bellingham
The people of Ireland fear
They’ll outgrow their capital near.
The census still shows
What each citizen knows:
It is Dublin each day of the year!
Mark M. Schlichting, Bellingham
St Pat didn’t know what he started
When his soul for heaven departed
Leaving legions of drinkers
Miming deep-thinkers
With their whiskey wisdom imparted.
Nancy Lewis, Bellingham
McBride and his buddy Hollis
Were imbibing ale for solace
When ‘twas made quite clear
They’d never come near
Seeing Erin go bragh-less.
Nancy Lewis, Bellingham
A woman renown for acuity
at times dabbled in promiscuity.
When I told her my name
and could not expect fame,
she sought a monied man with vacuity.
Andrew Shattuck McBride, Bellingham
Recently daylighted Padden Creek,
flush with a massive raw sewage leak.
Fishing for crappie
makes me quite unhappy,
and even bottom fish avoid the reek.
Andrew Shattuck McBride, Bellingham
A laddie who lived in Fairhaven
Had local lassies all ravin’.
His smile melted butter
And set hearts aflutter.
Too bad he wasn’t yet shavin’.
Nancy Lewis, Bellingham
On this day you must drink green beer,
raise your glass and let out a cheer,
“Hats off to St. Pat.”
And once you do that
you’re good for the rest of the year.
Lana Haddox, Bellingham
There’s a newspaper lady named Sarah
Who reports on our cultural era.
When she cries you might think
She weeps printer’s ink,
It’s not ink, it’s just her mascara.
John Lee, Bellingham
There’s a pretty barista named Hannah,
Known from Bellingham east to Montana,
For her yummy cuisine
Of sweets and caffeine
And a tasty but pricy banana.
John Lee, Bellingham
A newbie came to Bellingham
and opened his Umbrellingham.
A local guy cried,
“Hey, where is your pride?”
then shared the crime on Instagram.
Susan Chase-Foster, Bellingham
On the edge of the Salish Sea
three crows loved to perch in a tree.
They liked watching clouds
while avoiding crowds.
On this they would always agree.
Susan Chase-Foster, Bellingham
Food a pale lime, beer half-green too,
laid-back city bash misconstrued
as wild Irish gig
with drink, song and jig —
innocence unjustly subdued
Tim Pilgrim, Bellingham
Most politicians we know
Have beliefs that swing to and fro.
They must harbor hopes
That we are such dopes
That we can’t figure out what is so.
Shirley Payne, Lynden
There is so much snow at Mt. Baker
The volcano – it’s likely to shake her.
Depth records have been set.
Although it can be wet
There is still no better ski hill for the first run taker.
Sabine Brueske, Bellingham
There once was a house on fire,
the smoke rose higher and higher.
There was a person inside,
but they really shouldn’t hide.
Because their situation truly is dire.
Connor Brueske, 11, Bellingham
There once was a man named Dave,
Who lived in a spacious cave.
He ate like a bear,
Leaving nothing to share,
Until he laid down in his grave.
Connor Brueske, 11, Bellingham
Leprechauns are sneaky little fellows,
They know how to work the bellows,
So they can get away,
And not become the prey,
Of the cat that sits and mellows.
Lauren Ariz, Assumption School
St. Paddy’s, the best time of the year!
All the little ones start to cheer.
In the ground, the four-leaf clover,
Completely throw people over.
It makes the leprechauns reappear.
Paige Simons, Assumption School
There was an old lady in Bellingham
Who received a biblical telegram:
“Even though you’re poor,
Your life is worth more,
Way more than 99 tap-dancing pelicans.”
Susan Olsen, Bellingham
According to Paddy O’Ryan
He who lives in County Cork Ireland
’Tis the smell in the air
And the lassies so fair
They keeps those Irish eyes smilin’
Mary Aemmer, Bellingham
Don’t be caught not wearing green.
You certainly can’t be seen
not praising St. Pat
by dressing like that
each year on March seventeen.
Lana Haddox, Bellingham
I’m the ghost of Antonin Scalia
On the next astral plane, I’ll see ya
But choosing my successor
With this political pressure
Well, I wouldn’t want to be ya
Dean Kahn, Bellingham
An emerald isle across the sea
Was plagued by snakes to a great degree
’Til mighty St. Patrick raised his staff
And said “You blimey snakes be off.”
Now that emerald isle will be forever more snake free.
June Hinton, Bellingham
Limericks need rhythm and rhyme,
To write, these can take quite some time.
Though silly old me,
I could sit in a tree
And in minutes have five witty lines.
Keely Lucker, Blaine
It’s March 17th, oh hooray!
When leprechauns come out to play.
They sneak and they hide,
They trick and they lie.
So beware this Saint Patrick’s Day!
Keely Lucker, Blaine
Ubiquitous dust everywhere
as cacophonous coughs fill the air
We ignore or appease
this greedy disease
leaving life a canaried despair
Jim Milstead, Bellingham
An Irish lad named O’Rourke
Was raised in a part of New York
Where he learned quite quick
An Italian trick:
Twisting pasta around on a fork.
Nancy Lewis, Bellingham
There once was a fellow whose name is Dean Kahn,
His call for limericks was his sine qua non,
His annual wordplay,
Turned Bellingham Bay,
To a magical spot where we’re all a leprechaun!
Micki Jackson, Bellingham
There once was a heart named ‘Glance,’
He was lost for years in France.
He now thinks he’s secure,
But he’s really not sure
When his eyes begin to dance.
John S Green, Bellingham
The Seahawks all have the desire
The fans help to set them on fire
Now Russel and team
Must follow the dream
For a Super Bowl win we desire.
Bob Hynes, Bellingham
For Orange there’s nothing to rhyme
For Purple I’m wasting my time
I can always use Green
It just seems so clean
But nothing disgusting as Lime.
Bob Hynes, Bellingham
A toast to St. Patrick’s Day
celebration ... hip, hurray!
So it’s understood
that all know we should
be Irish just for the day.
Lana Haddox, Bellingham
Council votes, in Bellingham,
A full jail, is quite a jam.
They put out, this bounty,
On the rest, of the county.
We need sacrificial lamb.
Glenn Rinkel, Blaine
My grandfather spent lots of time
Assembling words so they’d rhyme.
He gave me a lesson,
But I kept on messin’,
And now I just can’t seem to make anything fit correctly!
Mark M. Schlichting, Bellingham
This story was originally published March 16, 2016 at 9:01 PM with the headline "Whatcom limericks overflowing for St. Patrick’s Day."