The Anarchists have decided to find the best America’s Cup limerick writer; won’t you join them? Our favorite so far comes from the mysterious ‘snaerk’, and required some…um…translation.
Coutts was a talented sailor
With an intellect big as Australia
But his confident sense
Of direction has meant
That his dreams have now arced towards failure.
Like his co-equals, Cayard is apt
To devise and contrive to have tapped
From a billionaire’s stash
The most utmost of cash
Notwithstanding, their campaign unwrapped.
From a land with a shape like a boot
Came a team with no shortage of loot
But they ran out of timing
(As I’ve run out of rhyming)
In fact, timing was not their strong suit.
One thing that’s quite certain with Dalts,
In spite of his manifest faults
His opponents have winced
‘Cause his words are not minced
But his nuts sure are done up with bolts.