Definitely Limericks: Gi-Gk

When young Jack cross-examined my client,
The big oaf came across as defiant:
He said, “Fee, fi, fo, fum,”
And made threats. Pretty dumb—
I should know not to act for a giant.

Pronouncing the image-type GIF
Has sparked many a web-user tiff.
Is it “jif”, like giraffe?
Or like giggle? Don’t laugh,
’Cos it’s “jif”, its inventor says. Stiff.

As if.

Mr Hooper’s retirement gift
Was a timepiece too heavy to lift.
“What’s this clock made of, lead?”
He exclaimed—then dropped dead.
“Hooper’s present no longer,” we sniffed.

From the tip of his sword to the hilt,
Every surface was covered in gilt.
I inquired, feeling bold,
“Is that glister all gold,
Or from traces of blood thou hast spilt?”

Said Polly to Percy, “I balk
At your cunning endeavours to talk.
Such obsequious mimicry
Is obvious gimmickry.
An honest pet parrot would squawk.”

In our story, the gingerbread man,
A person-shaped biscuit, began
As a substitute child
Who broke free and ran wild.
(Just suspend disbelief, if you can.)

With the boast, “Run as fast as you can—
You can’t catch the gingerbread man!”
He’d evade all who did,
Every farmer, cow, kid,
Till he met a sly fox with a plan.

“Ride my tail as we swim,” said the fox,
And he did. “Ride my back to those rocks,”
And he did. “Ride my head,”
And he did... Snap! He’s dead.
(Many fairy tales feature such shocks.)

The moral is, be more discreet
In your dealings with strangers you meet.
Never boast you’ll elude ’em
Or gloat that you’ve screwed ’em,
When, man, you’re enticing to eat.

Jeremiah, the jolly giraffe,
Enjoyed nothing as much as a laugh,
Till his laughter cut short
When his antlers got caught
In a tree, and his neck bent in half.

Strictly speaking, a giraffe’s antlers aren’t antlers (or horns), they’re ossicones.

We learn, from the time when we’re small,
That giraffes are incredibly tall.
They have knobs on their head,
And aren’t stripy—instead,
They have spots. And long tongues. And that’s all.

Let’s rejoice, Aussies all, ’cos we’re girt
(That’s encircled) by sea. Rip the shirt
Off your back, and lie down
On the beach ’til you’re brown
(Though some 50+ sunscreen won’t hurt).

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