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There once was a Glaswegian master
Whose endgames were always disaster,
So he sacced a rook
To get out of book
And lost in no time to a patzer.
There once was a chessplayer from Greenock
Who found that when he played his knees knocked;
The whole board would quiver,
So great were his shivers,
And he was penalised with time docked.
There once was a master from Cadiz
Who thought he was a match for Deep Fritz;
The comp was so good
He vowed that he should
Just play drunks for beer money at blitz.
There once was a player who castled
Straight into a furious assault.
Pins, windmills and sacs
Made up the attacks,
But met with calm and his skill dazzled.
There is just one line in the Dragon
Which has all my defences undone:
Has me on the rack,
Makes me play other sicilians.
There once was a little chess cafe
Where locals would invite you to play.
I think it's still there,
In Amsterdam fair,
The wonderful Gambit Chess Cafe.
There is an instructive queen sac mate,
Where black's king gets smothered at h8:
You play double check,
He goes “What the heck?”
As the queen drops in, but it's too late.
There once was a novice from Parkhead
Who let me play what I dream in bed:
With pawns on g4
And f3, no chore
Is it to imagine what I played.
No great literary masterpieces any of them, just had the notion today and came up with them on my breaks at work, feel free to ridicule or add your own. Any idiot can write limericks, although I confess I have disobeyed the cardinal rule which is that they should either be filthy or funny or both.
There once was a chess player who sucked, and sucked, and sucked, I mean really sucked!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hmm. 9 syllables, 9 syllables, 5 syllables, 5 syllables, 9 syllables - make lines 1,2 and 5 rhyme together and lines 3 and 4 rhyme together. A little bit more structured next time woodshover, but...er....good first effort.
I thought it was pure genius.
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