He whispered then near Stephen’s ear: LENEHAN’S LIMERICK There’s a ponderous pundit MacHugh Who wears goggles of ebony hue.
Last year travelling to Ennis had to pick up that farmer’s daughter’s ba and hand it to her at Limerick junction.
Remember Limerick and the broken treatystone.
And our wool that was sold in Rome in the time of Juvenal and our flax and our damask from the looms of Antrim and our Limerick lace, our tanneries and our white flint glass down there by Ballybough and our Huguenot poplin that we have since Jacquard de Lyon and our woven silk and our Foxford tweeds and ivory raised point from the Carmelite convent in New Ross, nothing like it in the whole wide world.
They are followed by the Right Honourable Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of Dublin, his lordship the lord mayor of Cork, their worships the mayors of Limerick, Galway, Sligo and Waterford, twentyeight Irish representative peers, sirdars, grandees and maharajahs bearing the cloth of estate, the Dublin Metropolitan Fire Brigade, the chapter of the saints of finance in their plutocratic order of precedence, the bishop of Down and Connor, His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, archbishop of…
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Bob offered to pick up the tab for each of us who was willing to compose and share a limerick.
A limerick, actually: There once was a girl from Manhattan Who slept only on sheets made of satin Her husband slipped and he slided And their bodies collided So they did something dirty in Latin.