An AFC limerick thread was started by Radiored (neeps as was) way back in 2019.
Saw mentioned it was missed so bringing it over here. Rico has approved this 😉

 

Here’s the very first limerick from Radiored (the master of the gemme) which was dedicated to Cosgrove

 

A useless big laddie called Sam
Like a ham sannie devoid o' the ham
But at penalty kicks,
Wi a smirk 'tween eez chicks,
made the keeper feel like a right bam

 

And the final offering from Swaddon

The Dons have been battered in Greece
Which fair made me choke on my piece
Our players are sh*te
Yes, you hear me right
Maist of the c*nts are nae eese

2 minutes ago, Don Julio said:

There once was a Don from Oxford

Our uses of rhyme did applaud 

Our meter much less

He’s yet to confess

His own little ditty was flawed

Think that might be a whoosh

Not the first, won’t be the last

At the home of the dodgers of soap,
Down a goal and a man, not a hope.
Then a goal by Kenan!
Get it up ya ye fenians!
But alas, twas a slippery slope.

The top red called Santa has been

He even stopped off at Thelin's

He's been a good boy 

So he gave him a toy

And some Brasso to keep the cup clean

 

So now we've said bye to Thelin

Who next for our dear Aberdeen?

A foreign unknown?

Or one of our own?

A puzzle for Lutz Pfannenstein

So Celtic have parted with Nancy

Amorim Man U didn't fancy

Our Jimmy's gone hame

Are egos to blame?

Or all three's Pep G sycophancy?

Farewell to the gentleman Swede,

Another head honcho we need

We'd all like some goals

Even a shot truth be told

But enough of the making our eyes bleed

 

 

Once more we gid rid of the boss, 
on the back of an embarrassing loss
Can the next in the job,
make a fist of this mob?
Or subject us to more dismal dross?

That's four in a row we've not scored

It feels like our tactics are flawed

With wingers inverted

Our chances deserted

And all of us thoroughly bored

Now we've progressed in the cup

It could be that we're on the up

The cup's coming hame

Not to Hearts, what a shame

Nae champagne for them to drink up

 

Aye, I ken I've used "up" twice. Deal with it.

With great big defenders up top

We are setting up shop

No wingers or strikers 

appear to be fighters 

Still, better than harry potters' slop

I thought all our players were dicks

Until they hit Livi for six

Now they are great

And them I don't hate

Now I don't want to hit them with sticks

The referee’s first name was Ross

Whose decisions made me quite cross

Plus VAR took its time

To NOT draw the lines

But we won so who gives a toss?

The Dandies were battered by Killie 

It's starting to get a bit silly 

If we beat the Tic

Then I'll cut off my dick

So I'm sure I'll be keeping my willy

That fucking hun, Neil McCann

whom I’m not a fan

tis a cruel twist

they pumped us via fist

Now it’s clear that there’s no plan

Wi the game called aff v the Vic-Tims
We've time tae work on a system.
New players tae gel,
Our approach v The Well,
should be "heid first an fuckin' get intae 'em'

"Game aff" is the phrase that they cry

The rain is the main reason why

It's been bucketin' doon

All over the toon

And it won't even stop 'til July

 

We have a new presence called Bertie

Who's hoping that Mason gets shirty

Not fond of "homos"

He much prefers crows

When he's in the mood to get flirty

We now have a gaffer called Stephen

Who told his old boss he was leavin'

I hope he's the one

To bring hope to the Dons

And make sure that Pittodrie is heavin'

 

We have our new Boss Stephen Robinson,
Tae St Midden, he's handed his notice in.
Respect he will earn,
if 'heid first' he does learn,
and on better results he starts focussin'
 

[Not a limerick - apologies]
 

Good King Cormack now looks out

On a boss called Stephen

His pass mess lies all about 

Deek and Doc and Leven

Jim and Jimmy, Stephen Glass

Barry fae the ‘rurie 

Warnock was a complete arse

Piss up in a brewery…

Aye weel, there's nae 'Limerick Police' gan aboot .... which reminds ma .... fan the fuck is Vintage 57 gan tae defect Ab Mad an' jine us ower here?? 

Another defeat to the scum

of comfort, not even a crumb

There’s nowhere to hide

Down the table we slide

The future looks right squeaky bum

The sad fact is we're goin' doon

Unless we can turn it aroon

I still have faith

That we won't play the Raith

But we'd better start winning, and soon

These folk fa cry chippers 'chippies'
Are aa teuchters, sassenachs or hippies
Fish in batter, nae 'battie'
Paper wrapper, nae 'wrappie'
So, nae need for twists in yer knickies!