A limerick, presented humbly—I hope it raises a smile.
I’m dating a boy named Andy,
who brings me chocs and sweet candy,
We kiss under the moon
and we cuddle and spoon
on a beach that is scratchily sandy.
—Lesley Scoble, December 2025
I hope you find the song interpretation slightly amusing.
Written for Esther Chilton’s Laughing Along with a Limerick– hurrah for the fun!
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Thank you, Ladysighs 🙏💕🎶
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Adorable!
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🤗Thank you, Deepthy 🤗
The snowfall is something I switched on last year—can’t remember what you do to get the effect ❄️😁
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As an Aussie who was shocked to discovered the UK’s beaches were mud, shingle or a layered mix of the two, there was only one response I could leave to your excellent limerick.
There once was a lady named Mandy,
who proclaimed England’s coastline was dandy;
yet the shingle, ill-bred,
gnawed the toes on our tread,
and our chocolates set hard into candy.
We essayed a moon-glimmered canoodle,
but the frost took our tongues mid-noodle;
whereupon she declared,
with a flurry ill-aired,
that such courtship resembled cold strudel.
So I saw her but once, then I fled:
for she’d have me straight down on a pebble-bed,
no warmth, not a ray,
just a bluster astray,
and I’d rather kiss trout in a streambed.
My tongue is now full-twisted from all the practice involved. No, not noodling, priming my rhyming with timing!
You’re welcome
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“Writing is the painting of the voice.” Voltaire
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