Whatcom limericks overflowing for St. Patrick’s Day

Irish musician Peadar MacMahon sings limericks for St. Patrick's Day

Irish musician Peadar MacMahon sings limericks at Uisce, an Irish bar in Bellingham, on Friday, March 4, 2016. The limericks were submitted by Bellingham Herald readers John Lee, Diane Knutson, Mary Aemmer and Mark M. Schlichting.
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Irish musician Peadar MacMahon sings limericks at Uisce, an Irish bar in Bellingham, on Friday, March 4, 2016. The limericks were submitted by Bellingham Herald readers John Lee, Diane Knutson, Mary Aemmer and Mark M. Schlichting.

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

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