h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

As sanity waxes and wanes
Reality visits our brains
Then flees like the wind
And monsters creep in
To eat anyone who complains

It's peaceful now, everyone's gone
And I'm here in my cage all alone
The screaming has waned
It's calm in my brain
And the demons and gremlins have flown

There once was man from Vancouver
Who tried to spray paint with a Hoover.
He found it no go--
It would suck but not blow,
An amazingly messy manoeuvre.

To clean up start off with some thinner
Or solvent, if you're a beginner
Wipe up with some rags
Place neatly in bags
Wash hands and you'll be a winner

But what do you do with the Hoover?
It's not what you call an improver,
To jam it with paint . . .
No, pretty it ain't,
Let's call in a garbage remover.

The hoover should go in the trash
You can't trade it or sell it for cash
Nor sell it for scrap
So sorry, old chap
Good luck, cheerio, I must dash

That handsome young devil John Kelly
Makes all the girls quiver like jelly.
A hit with the ladies,
I wish him in Hades,
Blind, impotent, hunchbacked and smelly.

It sounds as though you're envious
But why wish him to be just like us
It makes us no cuter
Just one more wretched neuter
An additional miserable cuss

But that is what curses are for
They don't aim to even the score
At best they are seen
As an outlet for spleen
Calling others' good fortune a whore

But to be cursed when your true love is gone
With your brain seeking to find what went wrong
Is like a knife to the gut
And a pain in the butt
But I'd love to revive my love's song.

Your cry of pain stikes to the core
My sympathy's started to pour
The guy's lost his flame
His dame and his name
May he never be lonesome no more.

'Tis good to see life on this thread
'Twas starting to look as though dead
'Til one lonesome chap
'Long this way did hap
'Fore R and I moved on instead

My car will take plenty of us
Without effort, discomfort or fuss.
A stretch limo, you say?
You could name it that way
If you like; I just call it a bus.

Put paint in a hoover, you're joking!
That's some funny stuff that you're smoking!
It sucks and it blows
But everyone knows
A hoover's for nocturnal poking.

A bus, have you room there for me?
I'll provide biscuits, coffee and tea.
The distance is daunting
And you could be flaunting
Abilities like driving at sea.

A Bus on the sea? - That's a ship!
Just great for a round the world trip,
Are you willing to share,
Your Picnic-ing fare?
If I could come too - I'd just flip.

At sea, when they signal "Mayday"
They're not greeting the coming of May.
Its a sign of distress
From the French: more or less
"Veuillez m'aider, tout'suite, s'il vous plâit."

A whole month with no post

Whenever I spy a sad face
I franticly commence to pace
And ponder a cure
For the blues, to be sure
Or the blahs, whichever the case

I find when I suffer from Blues,
I search for a reason or clues,
Or I sit in a field,
Until properly healed,
As I listen to all the cows' moooooooooos.

Several long weeks have now past
Since any of us bothered to cast
Into classic goo
Or the other two
A limerick. Well here's one at last

Are any of you still alive?
It's from your dry wit I derrive
My inspiration
Without you it's gone
Ah! But together we thrive

We're all on a summer recess,
Except those Down Under, I guess,
Who probably take
Their mid-winter break
At this time of year, more or less.