Welcome FRLians, Posters, Lurkers, and Undefined. --------------------------------

Do you need a break or smile?

People rhyme here with real style,

There's a roast that's going on,

Stick around and join the throng,

Then come back after a while.

---------------------------------

Enjoy the Limerick fest!

-- Rob Michaels (sonofdust@limerick.festival), November 30, 1999

Answers

There once was a man from Japan, Whose poems never would scan. When told it was so, He replied "Yes, I know," But-I-always-try-to-get-as-many-words-into-the-last-line-as-ever-I- possibly-can!

-- (Kurt.Borzel@gems8.gov.bc.ca), November 30, 1999.

For just what it's worth, thought I'd mention

(Avoiding all stress and all tension)

I think it's real fine

To try for a rhyme

But please, people, please mind your scansion

------------------------

It's only as good as it's time

So don't get distracted with rhyme

It don't mean a thing

If it ain't got that swing

So let's make those lim'ricks sublime

-- (Scansion_King@rhythm.net), November 30, 1999.

Uh, folks. I'm afraid ol' Rob didn't tell you quite the whole truth. This entire limerick thing began as a threat from two old time posters, who proposed to "roast" the FRL regulars in their own limerick gravy, so to speak. Go read the last half of the "FRL Thanksgiving" thread to get the whole sordid and sorry tale.

And be forewarned. Posting here may make you a target for somewhat off-kilter humor. Be afraid, be very afraid.

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), November 30, 1999.

I'm too da*n dumb to be afraid. Can I be just a tad apprehensive instead?

Sir Rob the Onest, Exhalted Grand Leader and Chairman of the Bored,

My computer crashes when I try to load FRL # 13, tried 7 times, 7 crashes, so I can't maintain a count of the thread. Yes, I know that I'm no count. That happens. Quite often to me it seems. It gave up the ghost at #91.

Ms. Tricia, Fair Maid of the Great White North, Keeper of the True Canuckianian Stealth Geese, and Bi-millennial Poster Princess of the FRL,

In answer to your question of yore as regards the FRL #12. The answer is 95.

You may rest assured that your geese are quite happy down here in "Cajun Fun Country", and that I will make certain that they are kept hale and hearty and in fine form for their return to your care come springtime. "Mother Goose" now nibbles S.O.B.'s Southern Cornbread again though, so you may have that accent problem again next year.

Y'all take care.

S.O.B.

-- sweetolebob (buffgun@hotmail.com), November 30, 1999.

Sweet Ol' Bob seems worried, that's all

You see, he inherits the geese in the Fall.

But Trish has complained

about "southern" language, ingrained.

What is it they say --"HONK, ya'll"?

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), November 30, 1999.

"What you wrote is true, as you say."

"The geese do come here to stay"

"And, though she's a Saint, Ms. Tricia's complaint"

Is that they return to her quaint

Speaking "Honk y'all - eh?"

S.O.B.

-- sweetolebob (buffgun@hotmail.com), November 30, 1999.

Pssst. Lon. Over here. Shhhhhh. Don't go callin detention to us like that! Sheesh! We're hidin from SRAH - ix nay on the oast ray - or they'll find us and then we'll be toast! C'mon now, go back to that nice hiding spot behind the tree. Shhhhhhhhh. Quiet now.

S.O.B: O Great One, Sacrificer of Fingers and Toes, Official Keeper of the Count, Knower of All You Know, and Master of the Southern Stealth Regiment: Your count is True for the last thread, which died an unnatural death due to someone's post with a Java Apple, (you've heard of that there poison apple right?)at least that is what I think the culprit was. Maybe the Keeper of the Keys can delete the post and then we can get back in. And thank you for carrying out your official and hysterical duty for #12, as only you can. Keep up the progress reports from Mother Goose.

-- Laying Low (imreallynot@rob.micheals), November 30, 1999.

By Jove, you're a piteous lot!
is the Swamp Clown the best that you've got?
He screams from the mud,
(and his last shots's a dud),
and the Jiggle Juice has made him a sot!

Now your padre's a noble cleric,
but his aid's only esoteric,
if you intend to draw blood,
instead of just slinging mud,
you'll need some weapons more ferric.

Miz Galya, you've had your chance,
your fate's been cast askance,
your doom now certain,
your reputation hurtin',
while you can you'd best get that dance.

Sailor, your pigboat's aground,
the rest of your crew has drowned,
your torpedoes are useless,
your allies are goose-less,
and your loud-hailer won't make a sound!

And that sinister water-sprite spy!
She's got only a Harpy's cry!
Her brain doesn't function,
and she has no compunction,
to keep her from telling a lie!

Now the 'Leader' you call fearless is not;
He's simply another old sot!
He tortures cats,
and wears funny hats,
and carries his lunch in a pot.

We've discovered his Evil scheme,
and numbered his criminal team.
The plan's to lure Murph,
down to the surf,
and bathe him in seawater and steam!

While cruelty to cats is quite bad,
he regards these foul deeds as a fad,
and his major transgression,
is digital aggression,
and his performance is really quite sad!

Now someone mentioned a dog,
and maybe mistook him for Zog,
he came to your swamp,
for a very brief romp,
then squatted next to a log.

We didn't want to see that,
so we looked instead for the rat,
who'd trained the stealth-fowl,
but still heard the dog howl,
as he passed his tinfoil hat.

And the one who started it all,
is probably down at the mall,
buying some goo,
to turn her hair blue,
just like her daughter; what gall!

You're a pitiful bunch indeed,
and your wisest move is to cede,
this battle and war,
and rhyme no more,
lest literature you badly impede.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 30, 1999.

Hardliner, I just can't be mean,
My fellow FRLians are keen.
Torture me if you will,
I'll keep smiling still.
As a lover, not a fighter, let me be seen. :-)

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), November 30, 1999.

Name-calling, I fear, is bad taste

And seems here a humorless waste

So face now the fact

of noble Gayla's brave tact

For like Joan, she alone, among us is chaste.

Mud-slinging, in verse or in rhyme,

Is just another sad whine.

To tell you the truth,

I expected more couth,

But in fun, I for one, favor a softer Hardline.

So, gather your fav'rite scribble-tool

And trot yourself back to the school

where you can sit at the knee

of a clown, such as me

and learn how to first play the fool.

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 01, 1999.

Who's this king with no gumption,
Rhyming sillyness, scansion shmansion!
All's fair in poems and war bud,
Here we sling rhyming mud,
It's a roast! so pay attention.

The Five-Liner black Knight,
Is at it again tonight,
He feels exposed,
From what I supposed,
Moi, the spy with intellectual might. (ha!)

I'm still not impressed,
with this "SRAH" roast-fest,
I demand that the Dale,
To verify sends me in email,
His limericks professed.
Gayla I like your "tactique",
It's very quite "chic",
Kill them with kindness,
My dear FRL princess,
They'll fall at your feet.


-- (v@H2O.com), December 01, 1999.

Lon! Dear FRL friend,
Hardliner is not a fiend,
All this is in jest,
C'mon! it's a roast-fest!
All's going well, seen from my end.


-- (v@H2O.com), December 01, 1999.

Although it was slightly bombastic,

I meant it as slightly sarchastic

Besides, let 'em feel

the edge of our steel

(all right, so my brain's gone a bit slightly spastic)

---------

V atwater, come on. You knew it was crazy, didn't ya? I mean Gayla, CHASTE, for heaven's sake?? Maybe chased is more like it!

:

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 01, 1999.

Lon you had ME going!
Now I'm sitting here laughing :-D
Keep that FRL zeal,
that "edge of our steel"
, Hardliner deserves to feel!

--------------------------------

BTW Lon, shhhh....for your eyes only: "v" is for "victory". I bet you can guess the rest.

-- FRL Spy (v@H2O.com), December 01, 1999.

"V" for victory at sea, I would bet

(Are fruitcakes still good when they're wet?)

Are you a destroyer?

Or an undersea voyeur?

Don't matter; we're all in your debt.

So to the Yank and the Brit

ne'er worry; not a bit

My posting was hasty

and maybe poor-tasty

I musta had a foaming-mouth fit.

But the leaves fall where we rake 'em

As does our soufle's when I bake 'em (I'm pushing the envelope here)

The first rule of life

is the same as in strife

"Don't give 'em, if you can't also take 'em"

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 01, 1999.

I fear I"ve been pushin' my luck

so now, 'neath the covers I'll duck

But if Gayla comes 'round

a warning, won't you sound

or the last hair from my head might she pluck!

TTFN

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 01, 1999.

The Yank is calling all of you out,
He's awaiting a really tough bout.
What's a matter with you all?
He's just a grunt with a jaw.
Snap out of it and please make him pout.

Or this minister of the cloth will uncloak,
I was Popeye and that is no joke.
I used to haul Girines,
All over the salines,
This yank is a pig in the poke.

And Lon, please give the High One some credit,
For long ago He paid our debit.
He cares about everything,
Including our limerick thing,
He'll even help the way that you said it.

-- BB (peace2u@bellatlantic.net), December 01, 1999.

Good Grief, it's a wonderful day!
The FRL has called, "Anchors Aweigh"!
They're under the gun,
and for sure on the run,
and their ranks are in disarray!

The Swamp Clown's starting to reach,
the water sprite only can screech,
their leadership humbled,
plans torn and jumbled,
"Snap to!" their padre does preach.

What sort of a ragged bunch,
has taken themselves to lunch,
and left in the trenches,
clowns, priests and wenches,
to stave off the inevitable crunch?

Admiral Cook's on the beach, high and dry,
"The tide! Where's the tide?", is his cry,
his torpedoes are broken,
his engines not strokin',
and his plans are all pie in the sky.

Now, with the padre a word,
"Are you sure you belong with this herd?
You might do better,
with an Irish Setter,
or even a large Gooney Bird."

The BigDog's not been back,
Gayla's on a different track,
the Spy and the Clown,
have earned renown,
but the rest are just out of whack!

The one with the sox of red,
seems to have stayed in bed,
but his poor cat,
knows where it's at,
and he's gone fishing instead.

The Deedah's simply not shown,
the Huntress' location's unknown,
and the lady Canuck,
must be stuck,
in traffic or turned to stone!

Yes, it's a glorious day!
The SRAH is here to stay!
and soon from Britain,
we'll be spittin',
more ordnance over your way.

And padre, you'd best stay cloaked,
else likely you'll get yourself smoked,
look out for this lot,
that's led by a sot,
for surely they'll all end up croaked.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), December 01, 1999.

(Lon, you had BETTER hide!)

S.O.B. is really a sweetie...
He takes such good care of his family.
He appears to be tough,
A diamond in the rough?
He'll always be very dear to me. :-)

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), December 01, 1999.

I hazard a guess 'twas the rhyme

Lauding fartist with talents sublime

That prompted this trend

To set friend at friend

And let loose a new paradigm

-- Old Git (anon@spamproblems.com), December 01, 1999.

While you guys play and 'roast' away,
I just want to take the opportunity to say:
How much you ALL mean to me...
There's only a month left, you see.
Till things may be different than they are today.

If things DO change in a drastic way,
I'll miss you all each and every day.
Remembering all the fun we had,
I'll try really hard not to be sad.
As I think and wonder about you, I will pray.

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), December 01, 1999.

Death to The pink and brown Apes!!!

I'll Prove it's not just Sour Grapes!!!

On Rollover my Subjects will Fill,

your Transformers with Roadkill,

And put you All in your Rightfull Dark Place!!!

-- The Squirrel King (StillNuts@upina.Tree), December 01, 1999.

Tricia did not start this roast, Of that Hardliner can boast, And Sir Richard of the Dale, Who sends his lim'ricks thru e-mail, Across the pond - over the coast.

Gayla has a heart of gold, Don't get her mad - you have been told, For flaming fruitcakes she will toss, With weaponry she is the boss, Enemas will surely fold.

Hardliner - this is for you, Check your six I tell you true, We await Sir Dick of Dale, Knowing not what is his tale, We'll take it so don't boo hoo.

Old Git likes the stinky thread, That I started but thought was dead, people send it to the top, flatulence - a smell and pop, about this subject 'nuffs been said.

Friends do know I like a drink, Silly posts right to the brink, Whether it is wine or beer, Always I will say Hear Hear, Then nod off - out in a wink.

Murphy's pill he still won't take, Dear Mrs. Michaels she will bake, A friskies pie, The pill to hide, This is for his own good sake.

Squirrel King you stay off the road, in the tree is your abode, welcome to the FRL, squirrels their story you will tell, feel at home with this nutty load. BB may I welcome you, Your leadership is shining through, Would you like to be the Chief, The FRL can be your fief, Say the word - a leader new!

-- Rob Michaels (sonofdust@limerick.fest), December 01, 1999.

Dear Gayla, never fret, but do pray

for we're all coming to your house to stay.

To miss us, there's no need

Simply put out the feed

(we're kinda fond of you, too, by the way)

---------

Now, I'm fair, and I'll hafta admit

That last SRAH volley was a very close hit

But at least there's some hope

for coming at a lope

are new warriors - you sic 'em, Old Git!

Maybe, as they say, our troops ARE in disarray,

but oh, what a strange thing to say.

For everyone knows,

(surely it shows),

That the F-R-L is just NORMAL that way

And Padre, set not your sights upon me

for I, too, have seen darkness at sea.

And in the Hereafter,

I'm counting on laughter

The reward for fools such as me.

The question we meet, do we now face retreat?

Not I! Not I! (the newly shorn sheepy did bleat)

For It's soon now, I know

A fearless leader will show

And give them SRAH boys a taste of de-feet

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 01, 1999.

From somewhere deep inside of me,
Comes a warrior spirit, that I let free.
I'll take my stand with our leader, padre and clown.
Hardliner, my friend, you're going down!
Loyal to the FRL I will always be!

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), December 01, 1999.

The FRL is mighty still,

Our enemies their courage spill,

TO Arms! To Arms, I do now say,

We will make them rue the day,

Battle-hardened iron will.

Flaming fruitcakes will we toss,

Then you will know who is boss,

Run and hide now while you may,

FRLians! Join the fray,

On our weapons grows no moss.

----------

Fire! Fear! Foes! Awake I say. Now is the time to come to the fence of your FRL! (Gayla, The FRL gif Armory is open :)

-- (sonofdust@to.arms), December 01, 1999.

Hardliner of the SRAH, en guard!
Hoisted by your own petard,
you'll be falling down,
into the lap of the "clown",
who's held in high reguard.

In "disarray" you say?
I hope you can pray,
for among our ranks,
(watch out for his pranks)
we now count the padre!

And look who's joined us too!
To come to our rescue,
with her breaking wind and wit,
the Mighty Mind Old Git,
she'll make you "fly in the goo"!

Wow! look at you Gayla!
I knew you had in in ya!
A warrior princess you are,
by long and by far,
now there's no hope for the SRAH!

Finally Rob our sockless leader,
Appears as mad as the Mad Hatter,
He came out from behind the tree,
(The FRL works best disorganized you see),
to fry the Brit and the Softliner.

Donna soon I know will be back,
She's just putting fruitcakes in a stack,
Wrapped in her sheet up on that hill,
She's aiming at her kill,
If I'd be you I'd watch my back.

(But guys where's Tricia and S.O.B?
Somewhere together frolicking maybe?
And sir Robert the Cook?
Couldn't have his nose in a book,
he said he couldn't see!)

The Softliner is on his own today,
(The Dale remains safely away),
He finds himself in a pinch,
For us it should be a sinch,
In numbers, the rhymer we outweigh.
I'm worried of only one thing,
Lookie there, it's the Squirrel King!
If he's not careful he will,
End up in a stew of road-kill,
Caught in cross-fire of this roasting.

It's time for me to unmask,
To move on to a new task,
I've done my spy duty,
My new name is Sweet Victory,
Since I'm sure in it the FRL will bask.

(For good measure and to be perverse,
I'm adding this eleventh verse,
What it says doesn't matter,
It's just to one-up Hardliner,
That's why it's short and terse.)


-- Sweet Victory (v@pond.com), December 01, 1999.

Donna, Tricia, and Big Dog, too,
Greybear and Unk, I summon you!
I need all the help that I can get,
To help me defeat the Yank and the Brit.
FRL members, to our cause be TRUE!!!

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), December 01, 1999.

Good friends, true, stalwart and dear

the time has come, so let me be clear.

They put me to test

And I gave 'em my best

But now, I think I 'll advance to the rear!

The lim'rick carnage before me has grown

And your desperate struggle I've known

Our plight have I pled

to that ogre I wed

still, she insists that the field should be mown.

So, comrades, now think me not proud

but maybe, just a little bit cowed.

Look! Behind that tree!

Isn't that Elvis I see?

(as he slowly slips into the crowd)

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 01, 1999.

Yank uses a keyboard like an M16,
He mistakes the silence as leaving the scene.
I see signs of rally,
Not dilly or dally,
Be careful, the flock can turn mean.

Yes, you may laugh at our pitiful crowd,
As Goliath of old mocked the poor little lad.
I shall keep on my collar,
As I preach and I hollar,
The Brutish are coming, let's make him sad.

Yes you may smoke me, but remember the three,
Who were thrown in the furnace without third degree.
I'm helping the herd,
From this evil absurd,
For I remember the One who did that for me.

Ah, from lover to fighter 'tis welcome news,
And our leader is back from taking a snooze.
Where's the brit so quiet,
In the Seattle riot?
Or with Andy tipping too much booze?

-- BB (peace2u@bellatlantic.net), December 01, 1999.

Rob, I am new to the F R League, To be asked to be chief is an honor indeed. I'm only war's chaplain, Not FRL's captain, I respectfully decline, will you heed?

-- BB (peace2u@bellatlantic.net), December 01, 1999.

Rob, I am new to the F R League,
To be asked to be chief is an honor indeed.
I'm only war's chaplain,
Not FRL's captain,
I respectfully decline, will you heed?

-- BB (peace2u@bellatlantic.net), December 01, 1999.

BB, Every so often Rob tries to get out of being Leader. Some of his plots have been inventive to say the least. Pay no heed, we expect him to try and bust out now and then.

-- (FRL@old.timer), December 01, 1999.

Sometimes linking,
Is better than thinking,
Especially for,
The limmerick poor,
Whod rather be out drinking.

;-D

Diane

@}'-->---

Fruitcake Index...

#0-A: Perfect y2k food? (not for the serious)
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 000FvD

#0-B: Supermarkets, Duct Tape, and Phone Gnomes (Humor)
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 000W78

#0-C: Grandmama's missing check
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 000GXB

#0-D: Who else got one of 10 Anti-terrorist "Units"?
(pre-beginnings of the Canadianainainan steath geeses thread)
http://greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 000DfT

#1: Know Your Fruitcake! (not for the serious)
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 000Imj

#2: Know your Fruitcake, the second.
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 000hxd

#3: OT - Fruitcake III
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 000sez

#4: Know Your Fruitcake IV (not for the serious)
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 0011dm

#5: Fruitcake V : The Return of Sue?
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 001Bli

#6: OT- FRLians Unite, members only - OT
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 001Izu

#7: OT - FRL 7
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 001Oap

#8: OT - FRL 8
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 001P4r

#9: OT-FRL #9
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 001TU6

#10: OT - FRL #10 (washing Murhpy)
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 001ZPa

# 11: FRL # 11 - Lessons from the Geese
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 001gIB

# 12: FRL #12 - Natural Highs
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 001lYX

# 13: FRLian Thanksgiving
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 001qlz

# 14: OT - FRL #14 - Limerick Festival
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 001tTn

And... for Lon...

Beans and Air Quality (HUMOR)
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 000h17

And another addition...

Brotherhood of Yourdon (Sir Richard of the Dale)
http://greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 000Ia4

-- Diane J. Squire (sacredspaces@yahoo.com), December 01, 1999.

Dear Sweet Little Ole Bob,
That 13th thread your computer did rob,
Of strange wicked laughter,
So here-ever after,
You can click a link and NOT sob.

hear the lurkers ROFL

Diane

(i.e. thread fixed.)

-- Diane J. Squire (sacredspaces@yahoo.com), December 01, 1999.

Thank you Diane for linking the laugh
It contains power to defeat the SRAF.
You showed up in time,
To give us your rhyme,
But I think I'll just laugh and laugh and laugh...

-- BB (peace2u@bellatlantic.net), December 01, 1999.

We face a potential disaster

My wife felt the same when I asked her

She bought 12 pairs of jeans

me, a ton of dried beans

But the harem, I couldn't sneak past her

-- Flint (flintc@mindspring.com), December 01, 1999.

2K Pro was smug and cocksure

But got gored by the millennium boar

Feral dogs in the street

Snapped at the meat

That hung in festoons from his drawers

-- MoVe Immediate (MVI @yepimhere.com), December 01, 1999.

Truly I'm no deserter

It's just that I have a hurter

My chest is aching

My bones feel like breaking

The 'flu has struck this berserker.

.

Hopefully I'll soon feel better

I'll come back to join 'gainst the letter

Speaking in rhyme

All of the time

For Gayla 'gainst those who would get her.

-- Tricia the Canuck (tricia_canuck@hotmail.com), December 01, 1999.

(((Tricia))) Get well soon!

(Lon, I'm trying to rally the troops. Where are you going?)

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), December 01, 1999.

Although I run Caterpillers, I came up with this one for ya

As pupils of prepping, we ponder parallaxes of paranoia

We oft phrase paradigms of parataxtical phases of woe

Time for Pot Pollies pontificates and pyrotechnics to go,

Their polymorphism to pass pupa and to finally bane lo'

Please join us oh Pollygrip and set your jaw to the task

Don't draggle, stop doddering, past time to save ask

Ask now, ask fast, act out at last,

get a grip on the present

and forget the past

GAG polly {}`

-- Michael (mikeymac@uswest.net), December 01, 1999.

Tricia: Feel Better, Dear and Loyal Princess.

Ok Gang. Since we rallied and went on a war-footing, or war-arming, or war-heading, or war-necking, or warever, Hardliner has not come back, and Sir Richard has still not shown up! So, lets lighten up a bit :) and stand down, or sit down, or lie down. 'Peace', I say to our friends, though they would roast us. Truce, FRLians, while we continue to practice our limericks and have fun.

SRAH: Consider this a cyber-olive branch, or if you prefer, cyber olive oil! Come back Hardliner, and where the dickens is Sir Richard?

Let the Limerick Festival continue.

-- (sonofdust@limerick.festival), December 02, 1999.

Let there be peace on Earth... and let it begin with me. Hardliner, my friend, I really can't fight you. :-) Please come back!

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), December 02, 1999.

Gayla, Dear One, that was really nice :) How can anyone be unmoved. Surely, he shall return and fear no longer, now that the Great and Legendary Warioress has put down her Arms.

-- (sonofdust@truce.now), December 02, 1999.

Hardliner, email me for truce talks.

-- BB (peace2u@bellatlantic.net), December 02, 1999.

It's time and past that I confessed

'Twasn't war I wanted but contest

To urge everyone

To join in the fun

To put forth our limericks best.

.

So gladly I'll put away arms

And bring forth my utmost best charms

to work for peace

for men and geese

To prevent any one coming to harm.

.

Brave Richard, wise Hardliner,

'Tis the season, no time finer,

For peace on earth

And love and mirth

Hold your punch, don't give me that shiner.

.

And to cement my goodwill, a haiku:

,

If I'd three wishes

My first one would be for you

Friends of FRL.

.

Good health and long life

Joyful day in and day out

May this wish come true!

-- Tricia the Canuck (tricia_canuck@hotmail.com), December 02, 1999.

Hi Tricia. Fine limericks and haikus, Sweet Princess. Feeling better? At least there is no sign of typing flu. LOL.

------------------

See now - Hardliner and Sir Richard of the Dale,

Come back here to the FRL and join our Tale,

we are rhyming just for fun,

and until the day is done,

our limericks and haikus will never fail.

-- (sonofdust@truce.now), December 02, 1999.

INCOMING!!!!! The latest ICBL (Inter Continental Ballistic Limerick) is about to impact

From: Richard Dale To: 'Hardliner' Date: Thu, 2 Dec 1999 16:44:33 -0000 Subject: Limerix III Message-ID: < BBBB9EC9D803D311A0B3410200001106AE5688@drkunm35.unum.co.uk >

Hardliner, a few more to keep 'em going,

Yes FRL it really is me, complete with disclaimer as I have to rely on suppliers I cannot give a guarantee of compliance

SR

There was a young lady called Diane Who became a harsh old maid harridan Until Ed he did beckon And said I do reckon On the forum you'll go with a bang

There once were two twins from cascadia Who wanted to get on the media From the farthest beyond they wanted to join the merry throng But they were just good ole boys from canadia

There was a young man called Rob Who fixed nuclear reactors as his job Until one day when stoned He started the china syndrome And said oh well thats just a little trifling small prob

There was a young lady called Di Who one day was washed up high and dry Til she was put in command Of De Yourdon's wierd band Of fruitcakes who refused to say die

There was a young man called frank Who pretended to rise to the rank Of poetic laureate divine But couldn't make his lines rhyme And he ended up just working in a bank

There was a young man called frank Who bulldosed around like a tank He ploughed through the thread Much to everyone's real dread I suppose he just thinks its just a prank

There was a young man called frank Whose rhymes one could always just bank On being far from the real mccoy he would only annoy At his coming everyone's heart only sank

There was a old man called lon Who one day while resting on his old john Did dream up some rhyme Very far from sublime It was just some more of the old song

There was a young man called frank To whom we really have to thank For abominable lines And deplorable rhymes Too much vino he must have just drank

There was an old man called lon Whom everyone mocked when he'd gone He pretended to be Another Percy Shelley But of talent he really had but none

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), December 03, 1999.

As Honorable Warriors of Rhyme,
the SRAH will suspend for a time,
our virtuous attack,
on your motley pack,
in hopes of preventing more crime.

To the Leader dressed in red sox,
we suggest for your bagels, some lox,
stay away from that cat,
and get a new hat,
and for Pete's sake! Free Marie from that box!

Padre, an M16,
is a weapon most foul and lean,
and Hardliner knows better,
than his soul to fetter,
with motives malicious and mean.

An aerial attack's my style,
my favorite weapon's a smile,
my roasts are true jest,
and surely that's best,
but your's have been off by a mile!

Chaste Gayla your soul is so pure,
that you belong not in battle for sure,
for it seems that the thought,
that you might have fought,
is more than your heart can endure.

To the Clown who's taken some shots,
for whom it seems Tricia's the hots,
your valor is clear,
and I say to all here,
you're honored 'til Gibralter rots.

Old Git, you've missed the boat,
but lest you think that I gloat,
no fartiste's song,
could make me wrong,
a Fruitcake or even a Goat.

The source of the current battle,
was the FRL's careless prattle,
for they did invite,
The Brit to fight,
Hardliner, and HIS cage made rattle.

To be cast as a Gladiator,
may be fit for one who's a Hater,
but Hardliner's a knight,
who hates to fight,
and stands at the side of the Pater.

So the choice was made to ally,
with the Brit from the Isle of Skye,
we won't fight each other,
for he is my brother,
instead we roast eaters of pie.

Now the Squirrel King it seems,
scampered into the deadly streams,
of rhymes cross-fired,
by those not sired,
with fur that's silky and gleams.

We bear the rodents no malice,
Especially the King's daughter Alice,
so to the squirrel,
we offer this pearl,
"Don't drink from the Limerick Chalice."

To the Spy with the iron nerve,
and the cunning and vital verve,
your task was tough,
and quite well enough,
your comrades and friends it did serve.

Your service to F-R-L,
dismays all the demons in Hell,
and like Joan of Arc,
your example did spark,
the rally the Padre made gel.

You too shall be honored forever,
for being so loyal and clever,
and songs will be sung,
and bells shall be rung,
and harm shall come to you never.

For Diane lest you think we forgot,
your links were scorchingly hot,
they turned not the tide,
as we took them in stride,
but they aided the Clown and the Sot.

Now Overtures of Peace are three,
and only a fool could not see,
that this ill started war,
should be no more,
and surely that's fine with me.

But while starting a war is quite easy,
putting an end to one makes some few queasy,
so while this Truce hold,
I shall make somewhat bold,
and carry these tidings o'er sea.

Sir Richard has equal say,
and despite his attack of today,
he may be in favor,
and might even savor,
a cease-fire, yet still might say, "Nay".

But lest you mistake our cessation,
of combat for fear of your nation,
you must know very sure,
that we can endure,
any brand of your weak tribulation.

Now a word of friendly advice,
your tactics are poor, if quite nice,
but still you should know,
that should someone throw,
a bomb, you'd all be on ice.

Your rally was sound for morale,
but you ended up in a corral.
While Gayla served lunch,
you were all in a bunch,
an easy target for a bomb from my pal.

So if you'd continue your club,
in this manner you'd best not flub,
to be a dead hero,
from lunch at ground zero,
will send you all home in a tub.

I pray you all bide your time.
Use it to sharpen your rhyme,
and I'll ask Rick,
if he's yet sick,
of verbal carnage and slime.

Your acquiescence I shall assume,
and attacks I will not resume,
until Sir Rob,
gets on the job,
and saves you all from your doom.

The SRAH awaits word from you lot,
but for your own health you'd best not,
continue this war,
for you'd only get more,
of what you've already got.

We'd put to the sword your Head Sot,
and lay him out on a cot,
and send his red sox,
home in a box,
to Murphy, who's 'dibs' on them got.

So discuss it among yourselves,
and be sure to consult with the Elves;
Your future hangs by a thread,
if it breaks you're all dead,
and the SRAH will bury you in twelves.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), December 03, 1999.

My roasts are also in jest,,
I was laughing at yours be at rest,
Is this not an attack?
Don't make me look back,
But my words to you were my best.

A gun is used with only with skill,
And your words were so good they did 'kill',
I am new at this game,
And your limerick fame,
But the FRLians were running at will.

I really don't think I was off,
The FRLians didn't take you as soft,
Although you're a sinner,
Your skin is much thinner,
Forgive 70 times 7 as 'oft.
It seems most here don't want to fight,
And I certainly feel that is right.
Accept the truce,
We'll send you a goose,
And from now on we'll keep it light.

-- BB (peace2u@bellatlantic.net), December 03, 1999.

Hardliner has returned to say,

He'd rather not roast, just come to play,

The truce he's accepting,

While Sir Richards reflecting,

If he agrees too the truce stays.

---------------------

We await word from across the pond.

-- (sonofdust@limerick.festival), December 03, 1999.

I don't know if I can just let this rest

'though, I'll admit Harliner's the best

Sure, they come with a smile,

But this lad from the Isle

I think we should put to the test.

While he might be a truly great guy,

As a poet, he's one fruitcake shy

His rhythm is ruptured

It seems all hic-uptured

But he's talking ENGLISH, so maybe that's why

While it's true, my lines often sway

And my rhymes are just "inches" away

Say 'em in Texican

And you might get my lexicon

(And just WHO is Percy Shelly, anyway?)

But the truce, I guess I shall honor

(about time - I was almost a goner)

so I'll stop my pout,

give 'em benifit of doubt

I'll go find Chris, and haikus heap upon her

Yes, I'll honor the truce laid before us

I'll lay down my sword and thesaurus

And concentrate on Trish,

who's really my dish

Admit it, don't you all simply adore us?

So, let our children tell the tale

upon the hilltop and in the swale

of the battles we fought

the lim'ricks we wrought

the smiles that we sought

and the laughs that were brought

By the Yank and the Brit of the Dale!

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 03, 1999.

Ah - A new rhyming sender,

Caterpillar, though, be his vender,

He spews fourth words beginning with P,

So much alliteration and assonance I forsee;

But cats and pills don't sit well, if blended.

-- Robert A. Cook, PE (Marietta, GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), December 03, 1999.

ATTENTION FRL!!!! IN THE SPIRIT OF THE ONGOING TRUCE, I MUST WARN YOU TO TAKE COVER!!! DUE TO THE TIME-LAG IN COMMUNICATION BETWEEN TEXAS AND BRITAIN, THE FOLLOWING TWO ICBLs WERE LAUNCHED PRIOR TO MY NOTIFICATION TO SIR RICHARD THAT A TRUCE WAS IN EFFECT. DUE TO THE BALLISTIC NATURE OF THE WEAPONS, ONCE LAUNCHED, THEY MAY NOT BE RECALLED AND THIS PARTICULAR MODEL OF ICBL (The European Union's "CUCKOO" missile), HAS NO SELF-DESTRUCT FEATURE. THIS IS AN UNFORTUNATE EXAMPLE OF MY ADMONITION THAT WARS ARE NOT AS EASY TO STOP AS TO START. First CUCKOO of Two

From: Richard Dale

To: 'Hardliner'
Date: Fri, 3 Dec 1999 08:41:14 -0000
Subject: yet more
Message-ID: < BBBB9EC9D803D311A0B3410200001106AE568E@drkunm35.unum.co.uk >

There was a young man called RobACook
Who drove all night just to look
For skunks playing near
The highway without fear
Then he squashed them to the shape of a book

There was a young woman called Trish
Who had only one secret wish
To be wed to Hardliner
And escape from the Diner
Where she was a waitress you see, what a dish!

There once was a mob called FRL
Who at the first hurdle just fell
They could not hold a candle
To the SIRAH handle
Whose onslaught they could never repel

There was a young man called Rob Michael
Who decided to climb "Le Tour Eiffel"
He couldn't afford the steep fares
So he walked up the stairs
And descended sat astride a mono-cycle

There once was a mob called FRL
Who dared to challenge the brave citadel
Sir Richard and Hardliner
Gave them all a rosy shiner
And they crawled back like dogs to their kennel

There once was a mob called FRL
Who were a piteous bunch of personnel
They couldn't show muster
Being descended from Custer
They just ran for their lives you could tell

There once was a mob called FRL
Who never came out of their shell
The cowered in a fluster
Couldn't lift a feather duster
And just stewed in their self-created hell

There once was a mob called FRL
Who thought everyone else infidel
They had the cheek to say
"Sir Richard will pay"
But for him it was just a mere bagatelle

There once was a mob called FRL
For whom we'll just toll the handbell
They were through before the start
They hadn't got the heart
To challenge SIRAH I could foretell

Second CUCKOO of Two

From: Richard Dale
To: 'Hardliner'
Date: Fri, 3 Dec 1999 15:57:27 -0000
Subject: More limey liimerix
Message-ID: < BBBB9EC9D803D311A0B3410200001106AE56A0@drkunm35.unum.co.uk >

There was a young pair from the Cascades
Who thanked God they lived far from the everglades
Where Lon could be found
With his old feline hound
Making mudpies with buckets and spades

There was a young man called Lon
Who had a strange feline named Ron
The cat it would bark
And think it a lark
To bury bones in the garden so long

There once was a young man called Frank
Who lived in a swamp that smelt rank
The muddy terrain
Was one constant pain
And after sunset it really was all dank

There once was a young man called Frank
Who one day in a swamp he just sank
Until a little bit later
He got caught by a gator
And couldn't get back to the bank

There was a young man called Lon
Who lived in an old filthy swamp
Even the lakes
Were infested with snakes
All the creatures just used it as a john

There was a young man called Lon
His sou'wester and waders did don
To venture into the swamp
For a frolic and romp
Twas a week before we knew he had gone

There was a young man called Lon
Who had a strange feline named Ron
It acted like a dog
Not a skunk or a hog
And chased cats just for fun all day long

There was a young man called Lon
Who had a strange feline named Ron
He smelt like a hound
As everybody soon found
He'd leave a deposit and then he'd be gone

There was a young man called Lon
Who had a strange feline named Ron
"Well what the hell is that"
"A dog or a cat"
Either way you'd be sure it would pong

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), December 03, 1999.

< Who had a strange feline named Ron

"Well what the hell is that"

"A dog or a cat"

Either way you'd be sure it would pong >>

---...---...---...---...---...

Ah - but that last was sorta wrong,

For the words didn't rhyme and rthymn with Long

The SARAH throws missives so far,

But they can't turn round like a car,

Or did I, too, not get the link to "PNG-pong"?

-- Robert A. Cook, PE (Marietta, GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), December 03, 1999.

Robert, Good Sir, LOL. Nobody has a way with words as you do - you are truly wayword :)

The Truce is still ON. I know it may be tough on some of us to just stand down and take this latest salvo, yet we have a higher porpoise. So if you see it coming just Duck., and don't let this get your Goose.

Peace is what we will desist on. So let us all have patience with Sir Richard and hope he responds positively in the next massage.

Patience FRLians. We await, still.

-- (sonofdust@limerick.festival), December 03, 1999.

From: Richard Dale
To: 'Hardliner'
Date: Fri, 3 Dec 1999 16:22:19 -0000

Subject: UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER

Message-ID: < BBBB9EC9D803D311A0B3410200001106AE56A3@drkunm35.unum.co.uk >

is all I'll accept

SRAH Forever

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), December 03, 1999.

FRLians: Our reasonable offer of Truce has been declined. Lettuce therefore turn the other cheek at whatever insults and roasts are hurled against us. We are FRLians still, and must by our example show the way. Do not sink to a counterattack. I know this will be difficult, yet remember that we stand together and stand strong because we are together. Take what comes our way, and let it go, for they will eventually tire of it and Peace shall Prevail.

Let the fun and Limerick Festival continue.

-- (sonofdust@limerick.festival), December 03, 1999.

I'll abide by the truce,
Because in all truth,
I never was up to par,
To fight a poetic war,
Against this Parnassian deuce.

I'll follow Gayla's lead instead,
There's a love poem in my head,
Of which I'd like to write,
Even if it sounds trite,
To someone who's name should not be said.

There once was a man unnamed,
The wild fox in me he tamed,
By everyone he was admired,
More than that in me he stirred,
(But I'm married, I'm so ashamed!)

------------

(A special chicken-soup haiku for Tricia's cold)

Christmas Season here
White Canadian wonderland
Pacesetter for peace


-- Chris (#$%^&@pond.com), December 03, 1999.

The following post is for Hardliner's Eyes Only:

Hardliner: You accepted the truce, seeing the HEY! You're not Hardliner. Stop reading this Right Now! --- Ok, thats better. Now, where was I - Oh yes, you saw the benefit to all in accepting the truce, but Sir Richard did not. I would ask that you try to bring him round, you know, work behind the thread a bit, so that we can all have peace. Remember what John Belushi said after the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor: A house divided against itself cannot sit, or stand, or uh, well you know what I mean. Anyway, how 'bout it - worth a try?

OK Gang, you can start reading again.

Lon: Sir Richard seems to like especially to pick on you for some reason, to be frank :), so stand tall and be firm! We are with you. (if you need to, hide behind the tree and have some jiggle juice ok?)

Stand together FRLians, for therein is our greatest strength.

-- (sonofdust@limerick.festival), December 03, 1999.

<<. Do not sink to a counterattack. >>

I can't - I'm not alloud in the kitchen

but I can sneak there quietly and get in,

but only if the refrigerator is not locked

to snack at night as the clock tocked

Since frozen pizza has only one ingrediant in it.

-- Robert A. Cook, PE (Marietta, GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), December 03, 1999.

Yeah, Rob, I've noticed the same:

The Brit's barbs all seem to rhyme with MY name.

But at least I've learned in time

To make my rhymes rhyme

And thus spare you all of more shame.

As you requested, I'll stand tall and abide

Taking their truce-breaking arrows in stride

For as noted by my wife

At this apex of life

I'm not only tall, but I'm wide!

But Sir Cook is still burning for slaughter

He seems enraged, and he oughter

They shouldn't cross him

(He learned to rhyme at A&M)

Quick! Someone fetch a me bucket of water.

Far be it from me to say so,

but the Brit seems a leeeettle bit slow

Or by now he' d deduce

the value of truce

When Diane is skinny-dipping in the bayou!

And so to all FRLdom, I say truce!

Stow the fruitcakes; hold the goose.

Let Peace rule the land,

and in every hand,

a big jar of cuzzin Iggie's best juice!

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 03, 1999.

-- Stand down? (too@late.I say!), December 03, 1999.

A ball goes short,

A ball goes Long,

We look and look in the bayou

But - stand up Diane, we can't see you,

Now, can the caterpillar play PNG-pong?

-- Robert A. Cook, PE (Marietta, GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), December 03, 1999.

A scandal!! Don't ya just love it

It's about Chris, (whom I secretly covet)

Shall we ever know

Who sets her heart aglow?

Could it be the Padre, or is HE above it?

An unnamed man? Is it Rob?

The fearless leader of our FRLian mob?

In red sox, is he creeping

thru her dreams as she's sleeping

Could HE be her mysterious heart-throb?

Ah, but wait, I think maybe I know

I bet it's Flint, who's her shy Romeo

This dear sweet girl from the North -

has HE been tendin' her hearth?

I'm sorry, but I just gotta know!

Or has Greybear been secretly romancin'

Turning her head with unicycle riding and dancin"?

Beariness is very ma-cho

all that hairiness, don'tya know

Has he, through her parsnips been prancin'?

Or has she fallen under the spell

Of the Yank; oh, that would be swell.

While I'm busy makin' rhyme,

they're busy makin' time

Is it HE, whisperin' sweet nothin's by her well?

Or for philanderin' maybe we should look

At that stalwart, Sir Robert of Cook

Nuclear sweet talk, we know

sets a girl's heart all aglow

Is it HE, who been readin' her book?

But her true hero, her heart only knows

Although I'm thinking it shows

There could never be anutter

who set's her heart aflutter

LIKE THE OLD GUY WITH THE RED RUBBER NOSE!

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 03, 1999.

Be still, my fickle heart; be still, do not race

Remember your age, try and keep to the pace

(Diane, sans trousers!!!

YOWSERS!!!)

At least I'll die with a smile on my face.

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 03, 1999.

There's a loose cannon in our midst!
Our trucely peace he splits!
I'll not fall for it,
Doesn't bother me a bit,
Because in the FRL, he fits!

Sir Robert the Wayward,
Has a way with the word,
He twists meanings and rhyme,
Some sots see this as a crime,
But WE know he's a cerebral lord.

To Richard the Dale I surrender,
(You can tell him that Hardliner),
I stand tall with the FRLians,
To maintain peace among ruffians,
My moral grounds are simply higher :^)

-- Chris (#$%^&@pond.com), December 03, 1999.

There once a girl from Peru,

Whose limericks stopped at line two.

There once was a man from Verdun,

-- (unarmedin@battleof.wits), December 03, 1999.

Oops! now look what I've started!
I don't want the men broken-hearted,
So you all should know,
In my heart there's a glow,
For everyone Lon has included.

-- Chris (#$%^&@pond.com), December 03, 1999.

Who is the object of Chris's affections?,

We all now wonder in deep reflections,

Will she tell us with whom she is smitten?,

Or will we have only what's already written,

Its her choice - Tell us please your intentions!

-------------

Hey! Who's playing with the cannon again. I thought we left that at the Circus. Better stop it. Remember what happened to DieTer. Sheesh!

-- (sonofdust@limerick.festival), December 03, 1999.

Chris: Looks like we posted at the same time. Thanks for the answer!

-- (sonofdust@limerick.festival), December 03, 1999.

Frlians, the Truce does hold!
'tis a sorry tale but old,
while the blood yet runs hot,
for the Brit and the Sot,
To the table must come the bold.

Now Truce is a sometime thing,
a hope on a prayer and a wing,
that while fighting cease,
good will should increase,
and to all prosperity bring.

Truce does not mean the end,
it's only a time when men bend,
the harsh words of yore,
into something much more,
and Diplomats come to attend.

Those weasels of words have a way,
of bringing into full play,
a game so complex,
that all it does vex,
as Bankers rake in their foul pay.

Such Fate I'd rather avoid,
Why listen to someone named 'Lloyd?
if we instead,
only use our head,
we may all be overjoyed.

Now the term's 'Unconditional Surrender',
quite surely a stiff mind bender,
but let's take a look,
into Webster's book,
and see if it won't some aid render.

'Unconditional' surely does mean,
'no conditions', seen or unseen,
and Sir Richard, I know,
is nothing like slow,
and his mind, like his sword is keen.

'No conditions' is absolute,
and if our war this will suit,
neither side,
may deride,
or chastise or insult or loot.

And Surrender's the easy part,
for with a show of great heart,
your Leader in sox,
has put in a box,
his sword and indeed's done his part.

'Surrender' only means to quit,
and it's surely apparent that's it,
it's what you've already done,
(despite that damn gun!),
but let's leave for Beaver that nit.

To Sir Richard I'm sending these words:
"Let's let them go back to their herds,
we've shown our might,
in everyone's sight,
and I've got business with one of their birds."

"Surely it would be far nobler,
(while I feed her chocolates from Dobler),
to hold high our head,
and remove their foul dread,
so let me be off to hold her."

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), December 03, 1999.

Was that Okay, or not-Okay - Sir Ender; eh?

But we've only just begun to say

Oh drat, I missed Diane

Dipping in the bayou sublime

Too many pieces of chocolate latte in the way.

-- Robert A. Cook, PE (Marietta, GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), December 03, 1999.

Good Work Hardliner! (you really are terrific at these limericks!)

Rejoice FRLians, and let us continue to show our Good Will to all in true FRLian Spirit. Enjoy Peace in our Day, or if it is already night where you are then enjoy that, or if it is between light and dark...

-- (sonofdust@limerick.festival), December 03, 1999.

If you've been around as long as me,
When Chris fell in love, it was easy to see.
He made her heart go pitty-pat,
That is ALL I will say about that!
Girls don't tell on each other, do we!?! :-)

I learned something new about love this year,
As I think about it, I shed a tear...
True love is an awesome thing,
Have you ever had your HEART sing?
It's an experience that I hold dear.

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), December 03, 1999.

This is a lime for the survivors of war,
There's a price, a pain, no winners, no score.
It gives no quarter,
It has no border,
In the end it leaves all scarred and poor.

In the haste to have fun we sometimes fall short,
We say things we think is only a retort
But wtihout a warning,
We leave some in mourning,
Oh, if only the damage we could quickly abort.

I'm not sure if I said something I shouldn't,
But there is a feeling ...ignore I couldn't.
Hardliner forgive me,
I need you to rib me,
I thought a gun in war was only prudent.

-- BB (peace2u@bellatlantic.net), December 04, 1999.

Padre, your ribs have been tickled,
we should (unless you're a Baptist) get pickled,
with nary a boast,
we'll drink to and toast,
those comrades for whom the tears trickled.

We bear many similar scars,
although I got some of MINE in bars.
The Blows from Hell,
we both felt well,
would make any sane man see stars.

Now the 'gun' that's the cause of this all,
is the one that shoots out a ball.
THAT's the one for Beaver,
not Colt's 'meat cleaver',
and for a Popeye, you stand pretty tall.

'tis a Padre's place to worry,
seldom with stomach to curry,
the favor of those,
who strut and pose,
and to the carnage do hurry.

If Hardliner's vision has worth,
your soul's immersed in mirth,
and your example,
is one fine sample,
of a Padre's spiritual girth.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), December 05, 1999.

Well the Liner came in to say its ok,
My mention of a gun did not cause dismay.
The Beaver and a gun?
Inside fun?
Whatever, your words said all they can say.

I too like you have been sloshed in my day,
From Nam, to 'pore, to the bars of Subic Bay.
I stopped sipping suds,
And joined Christian buds,
I changed my ways and its a new day.

I drink of the Spirit, God's love I feel,
I have peace and joy and a life that is real.
Christ is the Reason,
For this wonderful season,
He came for us all so He might us heal.

I'm glad the war is at an end,
This limerick is the last that I'll send.
Country's in trouble,
The y2k bubble,
And NBC weapons are 'round the bend.

I wish that this would all go away,
But the Bible promises a brand new day.
FRL's been a trip,
As good as a nip,
I pray the Prince of Peace will soon be on His way.

My prayer for FRL is simple and sweet,
God bless you all until one day we meet.
Thanks for the breaks,
As I pull up stakes,
All of ya'lls writings were sincerely a treat.

-- BB (Pastor Bob@backhome.com), December 05, 1999.

Okay...well, I've posted one if not two one stanza limericks, and they have not shown in days and hours...I'm gonna get a complex.

-- Donna (moment@pacbell.net), December 06, 1999.

Struck by peace!

Donna, while your limericks are still in hiding, your last non-poetical post is showing. Here's hoping that your lost limericks are found!

While it may now be (relatively) safe to come out to play, I'm going to be awfully busy in the next few weeks making up for illness and trying to pretend that I don't know the meaning of "procrastination", while madly making up for past hours wasted. I'll peek in when I can, but someone else is gonna have to 'hold the fort'. My best to you all.

.

A thank-you haiku

This one is special for Chris

And her chicken soup!

.

Stores throng with people

Preparing, yes, preparing,

But for the wrong day!

.

-- Tricia the Canuck (tricia_canuck@hotmail.com), December 06, 1999.

The Players have fled

Darkening sky approaches

Smell of winter dust

Bright streets, but silent

Listeners behind closed shutters

Faces full of whispers

A Truant for storms

Wandering among the leaves

One fool prattles on

--------

(Somedays the wind sings on the bayou. Somedays it sighs.)

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 06, 1999.

FINAL SALVO!!! A SINGLE 'CUCKOO' (W/MIRV) TARGETED ON MARIETTA, GEORGIA, CASCADIA, CANUCKIA AND SILICON VALLEY AND ONE FRL SPECIFIC EMP DEVICE TO BE DETONATED HIGH OVER CENTRAL NEBRASKA!!!

Rob, I think Sir Richard needs a concession here, and his conditions do seem rather reasonable. What say you?

From: Richard Dale
To: 'Hardliner'
Date: Mon, 6 Dec 1999 14:45:42 -0000
Subject: final salvo before negotiating temporary truce
Message-ID: < BBBB9EC9D803D311A0B3410200001106AE56B4@drkunm35.unum.co.uk >

I like to have the last word

My conditions are:

That the old timers are reunited before the dreaded hour 23:59:59 12/31/1999

We get an png-pong update from Japan

I get insulted by deedah

All unsold copies of Timebomb 2000 are put into a timecapsule and not allowed to reach discount book stores

The forum learns how to spell milenium

MS stop naming their products after their year of obsolescence

The FRL sign my version of the treaty of versailles thus building up tensions and causing WWII (Web War 2)

FRL land is annexed by SIRAH

There was a young man called Rob Cook
Who said my rhymes weren't always by the book
Sir R's a longtimer
A legendary old rhymer
Not some old ghost, a wraith or a spook

There was a young couple from Cascadia
Who were fascinated with legends of vampira
In coffins they did lie
Making room for their friend Di
And between them they polished off the sangria

There was a young woman called Karla
Who decided to enter the gala
She dyed her hair blue
Such a luminous hue
That we wouldn't let her back into the parlour

There was a young lady called Diane
Who became versed in matters boolean
She started program decoding
With not a little forboding
And so for y2k she must carry the whole can

There was a young man called Rob Cook
Who said my rhymes weren't always by the book
I can easily deter
Such a preposterous slur
But it means I won't let him off the hook

There once was a young man called Rob
As a submariner he did take a job
The drive was nuclear
But never did he fear
That the whole caboodle would uncontrollably throb

There was a young man called Rob Cook
Who worked on the y2k nuke
He said don't worry
They won't be a flurry
Of rays gamma unless its a fluke

There was a young man called Rob Cook
Who worked on the y2k nuke
His expert advice
Would always suffice
A man nobody was allowed to rebuke

There once was a young man called Rob
As a submariner he did take a job
Of the nuke he took charge
Which propelled the old barge
And from the heat he cooked corn on the cob

There once was a young man called Rob
As a submariner he did take a job
Until there was heard a dread creak
The old tin can sprang a leak
"We're all goners" the crew loudly did sob

There once was a young man called Rob
As a submariner he did take a job
Until the nuke gave off rays
Of radiation for days
And the crew became an angry foul mob

There once was a young man called Rob
As a submariner he did take a job
Critical went the old nuke
By some oversight or fluke
He said overboard the vile object we must lob

There was a foul mob called FRL
Who thought they could make life just hell
They really did have it in
For Sir R and his kin
And to the devil their own souls they did sell

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), December 06, 1999.

S.O.B. Sir., wherever you are: This is number 83.

Hardliner, you wrote: "Rob, I think Sir Richard needs a concession here, and his conditions do seem rather reasonable. What say you?"

Nuts!

-- (sonofdust@nuts.nuts), December 06, 1999.

FRLian friends, we are still helplessly rolling on the floor LOL.
Click the Link to a true post by a that is now our favorite #1 computer programming tail!

OT: Mutant Marsupials Take Up Arms Against Australian Air Force

LOL !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-- Ashton & Leska in Cascadia (allaha@earthlink.net), December 06, 1999.

Rumors abound near a swamp,
Truth is, Im not the least bit damp,
So the Brits slinging hash,
From his torqued limerick stash,
And acting like a non-FRL tramp.

'**'**'**'**'**'**'**'**'**'

There was an young lad from UK,
Foolishly thinking hed be Y-2-OK,
He just joins this digital slaughter,
When he really just oughter,
Get ready without any more delay.

'**'**'**'**'**'**'**'**'**'

That youngish lad with the limey side down,
Is acting more of a galumphish clown,
He should know better,
Than to take on the e-letter
Either appear here... or hed best just leave town!

Diane

(Harumph!)

@}'-->---

-- Diane J. Squire (sacredspaces@yahoo.com), December 06, 1999.

I've just popped in to say,
that tomorrow I'll be on my way,
to my bugout,
which is about,
nine long hours away.

I'm happy to report,
I'll be back to this fort.
I'll keep in touch,
Don't fret too much,
I finally got a laptop!

_______________________

Not sure when I'll be posting again, but hopefully within the next two weeks.

((((((FRLians)))))))))

-- Chris (#$%^&@pond.com), December 06, 1999.

(((((Chris))))) Be careful! We'll miss you! Check in when you can.

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), December 06, 1999.

Chris, drive carefully! Hip-hip hurrah for the laptop!!

-- Tricia the Canuck (tricia_canuck@hotmail.com), December 06, 1999.

Be safe Chris, and pop back in to let us all know how you are.

Another quiet time here at the ol' FRL it seems. Funny how it ebbs and flows. Turn, turn, turn.

-- (sonofdust@ebb.flow), December 07, 1999.

Rob, we're anxiously awaiting the big anniversary thread!! :-)

A haiku in honor of today:

It's Pearl Harbor day,
A sad anniversary.
God, please, no more war!

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), December 07, 1999.

Hi Gayla. Perhaps we should print out this thread and send it to our reprehensibles as an example of diplomacy in action.

I am looking forward to the FRL anniversary also, and have a thought or two for something special :)

-- (sonofdust@cease.fire), December 07, 1999.

That's good - if you were looking backwards at the FRLian anniversary, then you'd be on the other side of the monitor and would have to try twice as hard to misspleel words wrongly in right way - else they'd be spelled from right-to-left correctly, which is not left-over to right wrongly. But I can't go in the kitchen to get leftovers, cause they're in the right place, probably with the red socks.

But, then again, the guys in NZ and OZ could read them easier if they were looking up - but then again, .....

Yay - two daze until my birthday .....

-- Robert A. Cook, PE (Marietta, GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), December 07, 1999.

The little part of my bayou is formed by an old channel, with a small island being the other bank, opposite my dock. The island is completely wild, and a haven for birds, nutria, alligators (on occasion) and other, mostly unseen inhabitants of the wetlands.

This evening as I was walking through the leaves, as is my wont in Fall, the snowy egrets began to come in to roost on the island. As I stood there, in those magical minutes between sundown and nightfall, twenty-three great white birds drifted in on silent wings. There are four large old cypresses, with an understory of water elms, oaks, and chinese talow trees. As the birds arranged themselves for the night, it seemed to me a tapestry of natural Christmas trees, hung with great white-feathered ornaments. And of course, the still dark water provided an inverse and duplicate scene, with tiny wavelets providing the necessary blinking lights.

It occured to me, that if I had talent, I should paint this on canvass, rather than only in memory. I'd do it in watercolors in the hues of faded leaves, and leave them to drip slightly, so you would know the slowness of the bayou. Then I'd send it along as a Christmas card to you all. Only I'd probably mess it all up by saying something sappy, like:

My heart is continually aware now, of the friends of our most unique community. Over the past two years, we've struggled together, learned together, laughed , cried and prayed together. I shall never again walk among Autumn leaves without thinking of you all, and wishing you are well.

Old Lon (the clown)

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 07, 1999.

Well now Lon, that is quite a picture you paint, even if it is not on a canvas. Thanks.

Good Sir Robert, our Wayword Master and Bearer of the Order of the Fruit Medal, is gonna be in a birthday daze soon, based on his very, very subtle hint. So, gang, any ideas what we can do to honour him on his suspicious day? The floor will entertain emotions.

-- (sonofdust@days.daze), December 07, 1999.

Well, ain't that just great! I suppose, I'll have to do a birthday card too, now. (I'd do it too, for Sir Robert the Wayword)

May I be the first to say, May your daze be numbered as the fruitcakes of the season, and as full of nutty-ness!

And Rob, Iggie and me are bottling a special "Limited FRL Anniversary Edition" of Jiggle Juice. we're gonna age it fer two solid weeks, too! It'll be put up in special fruit jars with gold colored rims, and have hand-lettered lables stuck on top with your picture on 'em. I'm tellin' ya, they are gonna be the greatest gimic, er, ah, I mean, valuable collecter's item to ever hit the bayou!

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 07, 1999.

Lon: ROTFL! Limited FRL Anniversary Edition Indeed! The anniversary is Saturday. Will some be ready by then? Not for me you understand, I don't touch the stuff myself (anymore, or anyless, or anyway, or anywho), but for all the FRLians that like a wee nip now and agin.

It sure is mighty good of ya to put my ol' mug on the bottle (with duct tape I assume?). BTW, Uh, Lon, well, do you need any er, help with this project? How about a Jiggle Juice Taste Tester? Don't suppose that would be considered going off the train, I mean car, er, I mean wagon.

-- (sonofdust@dry.rob), December 07, 1999.

Scene:

A small, dimly lit cafe upon the quiet banks of the bayou, "La Petit Aubergine". A distinguished elderly gentleman sits alone by the window. He wears large lime-green shoes and a red rubber nose. He sips pensively from a newly opened fruit jar.

"Ah, Thursday. Now that was a good vintage!"

---

Rob, sure we'll have time to age it fer two weeks by Saturday. We're gonna make it tomorrow. Oh, and we're alwo gettin' some special coasters with a very artsy-fartsy painting of Diana skinny dippin' in the bayou. I's gonna be big, I tell ya, BIG!

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 07, 1999.

Wow! Thanks, Lon, for the awesome Christmas card! As you can tell by my limerick on the first of December, I've been getting a little sentimental myself. It's hard for me to think about things changing in a drastic way. I've had a LOT of fun in the FRL... a happy spot during a stressful period of my life. ((((FRLians))))

And to the "soon to be" birthday boy:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROBERT!! Let the celebration begin! :-)

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), December 07, 1999.

I like your Spirit Galya!

PARDEE HARDEE!

And now a little story about our Good Sir Robert. I had been making a bit merry at the Circus and went for a drive in my clown car. Don't remember much except someone threw a net over me to keep me from getting kilt. Next mornin I woke up and found that I lost my really bright red socks in the incident. I was besides myself with grief. It was Robert that found them and sent them all the way here to me so as I would not be sockless anymore, and I never fergot it. Here's to You Good Sir. HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

S.O.B. where are ya? Come on out it's time to party! This is number 99!

-- (sonofdust@happy.birthday), December 07, 1999.

Well, shoot. That was supposed to be Diane, also, and It's. (in my last post) I'll tell you what; here's some spare letters just left around on my desk - take 'em and use 'em in any of my posts wherever needed. kjh;sjeots;jkejhosoe!&^%

--- Yeah, Gayla. I've noticed that me and you are getin' kinda mushy lately. Of course, I am a sentimental and sensitive (in a strong kinda way) man, where you, on the other hand are just an emotional woman. What's say we get a couple jars of Iggie's best, a table by the window, and just get blubberin' drunk. I mean it works for Rob, don't it?

:

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 07, 1999.

Now, Lon! Blubberin' is SO un-lady-like, and you know I don't drink! Somebody around here has to be the designated driver for the clown car! I'm sure not gonna let you or Rob drive! :-)

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), December 07, 1999.

Gayla Sue! Say it ain't so!

First Rob announces he's goin' on the wagon, and now you go and tell the world you don't drink. Just what are ya'll tryin' to do? I mean the stock of Bayou Bullitpruf Aphrodisiac Distillery (BBAD, Inc.) has fallen off the charts in the last half-hour! The Board of Directors, namely cuzzin Iggie and me, are facing economic ruin. I mean, we could lose our entire investment of $32.67.

I know what it was. That busy body, Gertrude Gaspard, of the Bayou Ladies Temperance League got to ya, didn't she? I swear, if whe wasn't mamma's brother's cousin's third wife, I'd bait a trot line with the old bat.

First the Circus pulls out, and now this. I really got some blubberin' to do, I'll tell you.

Oh, well, maybe the gazillion samoleans we get for that last batch of FRL Anerversery hootch will tide us over.

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), December 07, 1999.

Lon, thank-you! That was the most beautiful Christmas non-card I've ever not recieved. You can send more my way, anytime! (sniff)

Good luck with your Anniversary Special Edition. It should do very well. If it (for some odd reason) doesn't, just paste a picture of St.Nick on top of Rob's and sell it as a Christmas special. This suggestion alone should qualify me for a free case. But to make real sure I get it, I'll add the free advice that you can advertise your hooch as Y2K compliant, adding a 2k sticker on top of Santa's after Christmas and ensuring a market amongst all those who are afraid that we will have jiggle-juice shortage in the new millennium. In the meantime, have one on me.

-- Tricia the Canuck (tricia_canuck@hotmail.com), December 08, 1999.

Well ole Lon, ovf da droopingz nosee...

Ya git mighti purtty there with dem words nall. Goot vork!

I hurt a roumour that ol couzin Iggi done pazzed out an done given awayz your hooth ta tha gators n critters inna swamppy alreadi. Deys a might spry.

Luuks lik ya gonna hafta makke sommore afore Robertis B-daze!

+ +

Hippy beezz-daz Robbiti!

;-D

-- Diane J. Squire (sacredspaces@yahoo.com), December 08, 1999.

Ooooooooooo. Time for breadfast and I sure am thirsty. Think I'll have some of that jiggle juice with my corn flakes. MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. hic. Wow, dats, very tastpee. HAHAHAHA. Now I bitter nut hav anymor cauze I gotta go workk and remdeediate dem 'puters Weeeeeeeeee hicpu. HAHAHAHA. Dis sure is a hole nu way of strafing the morniugn. Thankpoo Dianee.

-- (HAHAHAHA@wee.wee), December 08, 1999.

A Birthday Ditty for Robert

For the SuperSailor of Mirth,
for the anniversary of your birth,
I offer on behalf,
of the FRL this laugh,
(I learned to do it in Perth)

For many months now, you've given,
and written as a man who's driven,
your help to those,
who might suppose,
that "The Bug" will change their livin'.

You've even done it with humor,
and though some suspect a brain tumor,
your words are true,
and we all know who,
is the wisest Nuclear Doomer.

Though Polly your warning spurns,
we yet wish you happy returns,
stick to your guns,
keep up the bad puns,
and stay with us as the world turns.

The number of candles doesn't matter,
as up the stairs of age you clatter,
for a mind unbound,
(or is yours unwound?)
that's all just foolish chatter.

So keep on swabbin' that deck!
Forget that pain in your neck!
We want you here,
this time next year,
to help us count and check.

"Wonderful and Weird",
you've muttered through your beard,
of all that you've said,
and pondered in the head,
those words in my brain are most seared.

We all remember the skunk,
and suspect that your daughter thunk,
you a bit strange,
on your way to Le Grange,
And it's clear Gayla thinks you a hunk.

Just Happy Birthday, Sir Cook,
and may Father Time have took,
note of your giving ways,
through all of these past days,
and entered your deeds in his Book.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), December 08, 1999.

Robert, Good Sir: Since this is your real birthday, as opposed to your unreal birthday, it is time for your gift! I realize that its two in the morning, but what the hay. Please find attached a stealth glow-in-the-dark cyber Thesaurus, O Great Wayword One.

Surprised? I thought so. Bet ya thought that the Thesaurus was extinct, along with tyranosaurus and the rest! It is absolutely positutely guarenteed 100% compliant too! Enjoy your birthdaze!

-- (sonofdust@happy.birthday), December 09, 1999.

Happy Birthday, Sir Robert!!!

I found the perfect birthday present - for Rob :-/ It was a Duct Tape calender. 366 days of duct tape!

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), December 09, 1999.

a bleated (i mean belated) Many Happy Returns from the other side of the International Date Line to Sir Cook, honorary member of the De Yourdon Round Table (of which more later)

-- SIRAH (1/2) (richard.dale@unum.co.uk), December 10, 1999.

The hard drive did give up the ghost
The other day, when needed most
Backups, I sure did,
But still flip my lid;
'cos email and bookmarks are toast!

So if some kind soul would email me with information for Bok's safe house I would appreciate it.

Dang, I'm sure missing regular participation here. Bravo/Brava poets laureates!!!

And Sir Robert! Huzzars on your birthday. I'd sing but I'm a little horse today!,... (a shetland, I think)

-She in the sheet upon the hilltop,...

-- Donna (moment@pacbell.net), December 11, 1999.

Happy Birthday, Robert! You have been a steadfast and invaluable source of help, inspiration, comradery, and clear logical explanations on TB2K. Thank God you are on this planet at this time :-)

-- Ashton & Leska in Cascadia (allaha@earthlink.net), December 11, 1999.

Happy anniversary to us,

Happy anniversary to us

We're the best fruitcakes around

Happy anniversary to us!!!!!

.

Didn't Rob say he was going to start a new thread for our anniversary? I think I'll go check the new questions board (an unusual site for me)!

-- Tricia the Canuck (tricia_canuck@hotmail.com), December 11, 1999.

Mooo... ved.

# 15: Happy Anniversary FRLians!
http://www.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id= 001ypb

-- Diane J. Squire (sacredspaces@yahoo.com), December 11, 1999.