Limerick on dirty limericks

On Tuesday, when that old friend wrote me and the half-dozen other classmates about reciting Sonnet 18 to his wife, he addressed me as the poet laureate of the group, which flattered me, I told him, because about all I'd written lately had been limericks.
    A flurry of exchanges about Shakespeare's sonnets ensued among about half the members of the group. That afternoon, I asked a friend on the afternoon bus I take to go from my office to where I board my commute van home whether he knew what a limerick was. I asked him because I knew that he was taking high school level classes and one of them involved reading and discussing poetry. He didn't seem to know what a limerick was, however; at least he wasn't familiar with the term. So I recited one for him, one of the earliest I ever heard and also one of my favorites, connected as it is with the exchange group:

There once was a barmaid at Yale
On whose breasts was tattooed the price of pale ale;
      And on her behind,
      For the sake of the blind,
Was the same information in braille.

A few hours later, one of the exchange group members who hadn't said anything yet offered

One final thought, and this is purely from memory:

There once was a sailor named Bates,
Who could do a fandango on skates.
      But he fell on his cutlass,
      Which rendered him nutless,
And totally useless on dates.

    And I replied by quoting the barmaid limerick. At which point another member not yet heard from offered

This one is relevant for Mo and [another member of the group who works in Chapel Hill]:

There was a young lady named Alice,
Who used dynamite for a phallus.
      They found her vagina
      In North Carolina,
And half of her hymen in Dallas.

Well, as if it hadn't gotten bad enough already, the cutlass member returned to add that

I wasn’t going to send this one, as it usually makes any female cringe, but Mo, I take this as a challenge.

There once was a man from Nantucket,
Whose dick was so long he could suck it.
      He said with a grin,
      As he wiped off his chin,
If my ear were a cunt I would fuck it.

It makes females cringe?

Some limericks are so awfully bad
They make both men and women sad;
      Why are limericks so porny,
      Are their authors that horny?
They could just go out and get had.

    And that is my title limerick on [the raunchier variety of traditional] dirty limericks. Recite a mildly dirty limerick, and it'll more than likely go downhill from there.