I always enjoy limericks and have posted about them before (e.g., here); now, courtesy of Mark Liberman at the Log, I bring you Stephen Goranson’s suggestion as to the origin of the name:
Might the English verse form have gotten its Irish name in America? Maybe, maybe not, but consider the entry on Limerick in the Historical Dictionary of American Slang (Jonathan Lighter, editor). “Come to Limerick”–only in American slang–used to mean, more or less, to settle, to come to terms. Members of the American Dialect Society discussion list added to the three examples given in the Dictionary. They range in date from 1859 to about the end of the century. The first uses mostly relate to the looming and then raging U.S. Civil War; they later referred to more diverse put-up-or-shut-up situations. (More details to come in the comments, if interested.) There were many “Limericks” published then in America. I suggest the reference was to the end of the earlier Irish Civil War that was partly concluded with the Treaty of Limerick.
The OED quotes J. H. Murray–not to be confused with J. A. H. Murray, the OED editor (proof available on request)–in 1898 writing in Notes & Queries that Limericks were offered at convivial parties with the “come [up] to Limerick” chorus sung as a challenge for a new verse: in effect, offer another new one or surrender.
Admittedly, the above does not prove an American origin of the name. But here’s another hint that the name did not refer to poets literally and literarily from Limerick, having left, as the Treaty allowed, in the Jacobite “Flight of the Wild Geese” to France. In 1881 the Church of England Bishop of Limerick, who was also a poet (and relative of author Robert Graves), received an honorary degree from Oxford. This is recounted by his son, also named Charles Graves, in “The Cult of the Limerick,” Cornhill Magazine, Feb 1918, 158-66 (here 158):
“…he [the Bishop, in June, 1881] was greeted in the Sheldonian by cries of “Won’t you come up, come up, Won’t you come up to Limerick town?”–which we believe to be the correct form of the refrain. But the reason for the connection of the City of the Violated Treaty with this particular form of pasquinade remains, as Stevenson said of the young penny-whistler, ‘occult from observation.'”
(I have added the italics.) There is, of course, good stuff in the comments.
I know you are a great believer in literal quotation, but srsly, the sentence “In 1881 the Church of England Bishop of Limerick, who was also a poet (and relative of author Robert Graves), received an honorary degree from Oxford” would make a whole lot more sense if the words “Charles Graves” were inserted in square brackets after “In 1881”.
I agree, loooks a bit garden-pathy.
BTW, any relation to John T. Graves, the discoverer of the octonions? [EDIT: brother of both, apparently.]
Octonions are very much a solution in search of a problem.
Not at all: octonions are routinely used by game programmers to represent and transform the orientation of an object.
Not at all: octonions are routinely used by game programmers to represent and transform the orientation of an object.
Pretty sure that’s just quaternions, sorry.
I don’t think there’s anything out there that really needs the full might of the octonions (and isn’t itself just as useless).
I use octonions in my French onion soup. Good recipe too – serves oct!
The fact that they are non-associative makes the octonions inapt for most situations.
There never was a Church of England Bishop of Limerick. Charles Graves was Bishop of Limerick in the United Church of England and Ireland from 1866 to 1870 and in the Church of Ireland from 1871 to 1899.
That’s nothing. I have been known to refer to the American Episcopal Church as the Church of England when speaking to a visiting Irishman.
This new book, The Limerick: a History: 1820-1920 (Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Co., 2024) collects many limericks, along with discussion and literature references, all presented by Bob Turvey, who is himself an accomplished limerick writer.
As a history book, though, it leaves something to be desired, because it, among three specified things, does “not address the question of why limericks are called limericks” (page 8). In the 1820s, these “nonsense verses” were not yet known as limericks.
During the American Civil War, the phrase “come to Limerick” meant to settle, to come to terms. This was a reference back to the earlier Irish Civil War; that was settled, or attempted to be settled, by the Treaty of Limerick in 1691. And there is evidence of one of these five-line poems in America in 1880 being associated with the tune “won’t you come to Limerick.”
You can’t have a book called The Limerick: A History without addressing the question of why limericks are called limericks!
You most certainly can have such a book omitting the why regarding the name … and this excellent book is proof itself. We don’t have to know that Winston Churchil was named after his father’s dog to enjoy a tome on his politcal derring-do (I made that bit up). Dr Bob Turvey has spent 30 years researching limericks and he should be applauded, not criticised, for a work that takes us a lot closer to the truth. In it he provided many previously unknown routes for further research for which we should be grateful. As he explains in the book, it was a considered decision to leave this part out; due to a request from his publisher and that (commercially sensibly?) there is another book on that topic in preparation. Many other limerick books have dabbled with the question, but most of them have been inaccurate or just plain wrong (though their authors too may be forgiven for that and not having the internet to play on). I am happy to wait for a well-researched book on the origins of the name and I trust Bob to deliver it as well as anyone. We’re all pulling in the same general direction, so I for one am keen to encourage. I recommend buying a copy!
https://www.amazon.com/s?k=limerick+turvey&s=price-asc-rank&crid=14IZUGE99KI9T&qid=1728402446&sprefix=limerick+turvey%2Caps%2C243&ref=sr_st_price-asc-rank&ds=v1%3AIMIVxm1o%2B920z7OOEJcHQ2cCgFnX%2FlfwvzvNXwewJdc
Cheers, Doug (proprietor of the as-yet embryonic Museum of Limerick Verse).
You’re right, of course — I was just being a wiseacre. Thanks for the further information!
Cheers, Doug (proprietor of the as-yet embryonic Museum of Limerick Verse).
I think I see where you’re going with that name.
Of limericks, good, bad, and worse,
There’s knowledge galore to disperse
At the all-electronic,
As yet embryonic:
Museum of Limerick Verse.
It belatedly occurs to me that some museums contain bricks and mortar. If yours will be of that type, kindly change “all” to “non”. If it will be of both types, further research is required.
I am not urging readers to avoid the book, myself owning the ebook as well as the paperback, both, by the way, reasonably priced. Many libraries would do well to have it.
But, regardless whether it was the publisher or the author who decided to avoid the etymology of “limerick”–as well as any “in-depth analysis of what a limerick actually is” (page 9)–I find those decisions, for a book with History in the title, unfortunate.
Just to say that all missing 295 pages on the topic are now available here in Bob Turvey’s follow-on book; “Why Are Limericks Called Limericks?”:
https://www.amazon.com/Why-are-Limericks-called-ebook/dp/B0F9CPDF3S/ref=sr_1_1?crid=30F6AKQK07HEU&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.Rlckh62J-CdQ95gpToA_fA.SQim_UVOeRFAf0Q9whF5aAn-UkwjqoVTGNmwZe2Txng&dib_tag=se&keywords=why+are+limericks+called+limericks%3F&qid=1749050424&sprefix=why+are+limericks+called+limericks+%2Caps%2C189&sr=8-1
Today I reviewed at amazon a new book by Bob Turvey,
The Young Lady of Riga: The Limerick. The Legend.
It’s brief; here it is:
This episode of Limerick expert and devotee Dr. Bob Turvey’s learned series
focuses on what may be the most famous such poem. He has traced it back to
January, 1887, but suspects it was written earlier than that. And by whom?
Game on. This is an entertaining survey of research, correcting many false
leads and dead ends.
Now, Riga in Latvia no doubt includes many young ladies. But this one is
fictional. One possible precursor that the book missed appeared in many
newspapers in 1873. Here’s that story:
A young lady from Riga came to town the other day to have her picture
taken. When the artist showed her the “proof,” and asked her how she liked
it, she placidly remarked that he “put too darned much mouth on it to suit
her.”
Is that relevant? Maybe, maybe not, but it is closer to possible relevance
than various other proposals covered in the book. And this may touch on our
one disagreement. I take it that the English verse form got its name in
America. Turvey says in England. For what it’s worth, these “young lady
from Riga” stories were first and often printed in the US rather than in
the UK.
~~~~~~
In semi-related arcane news, accused forger, Prof. R. Morton Smith wrote unpublished limericks
according to a 1992 obit by Calder. Rabbit hole info here:
https://earlywritings.com/forum/viewtopic.php?p=197353#p197353
The version I learned of the one about the lady who rode on a tiger said she was from Niger. (Geography trivia that I don’t know the answer to: Is Riga or, say, Niamey closer to the nearest tiger habitat—as it was in the late 19th century, or now?) Since I since read it, I’ve always though “Riga” was British and “Niger” was American, but there are and were non-rhotic Americans and non-rhotic American limericks. Does Turvey settle the question of where the limerick is from?
Surely the most famous limerick is the dirty one about the man from Nantucket.
Do any of these places rhyme with tiger for anyone? Or is that the point which is going straight over my head?
I suspect “Riga” rhymed with “tiger” for some people in the 19th century. I don’t know about “Niger”. It didn’t rhyme in my youth when I read that limerick, but it was closer then than it is now.
on what may be the most famous such poem.
Nope, this is the first I’ve heard of it. Like @Jen, the only Riga I’ve ever known is in Latvia, and doesn’t rhyme with ‘tiger’. (‘Niger’ does rhyme with ‘tiger’. But there are no tigers in Africa. Neither in RYE-ga, New York; nor Michigan, for which pronunciation not given)
Most of the ‘young lady …’ Limericks I know concern places in Blighty (Crewe, for example — some of them are not even lewd).
‘Niger’ does rhyme with ‘tiger’
All together now: Oh, no it doesn’t!
Naturally, I say it myself à la française (i.e. correctly), but I don’t think I’ve ever heard any Anglophone say it with a /g/. Nor the river Niger.
On the other hand, most Anglophones are probably unaware that the country actually exists, so who knows?
I don’t know about everyone else, but I pronounce “Riga” with “eye” to rhyme with (non-rhotic) “tiger” when saying that limerick. I always thought that it must have been a historical or spelling pronunciation that was common enough at the time of its composition for the limerick to work.
LPD qualifies the diphthongal pronunciation of Riga as “formerly”, CEPD doesn’t mention it at all.
Yes, I say Niger pseudo-Frenchly (not SO Frenchly that I have to stop and rearrange my mouth), but if I didn’t I’d say it as if it had a j in the middle (influence of Nigeria?).
I don’t think I’ve ever said the limerick out loud – I suppose I’d say Ryega for the sake of the rhyme, but then I’d say tiger with a slightly different vowel and a different ending anyway, so…
I don’t know about everyone else, but I pronounce “Riga” with “eye” to rhyme with (non-rhotic) “tiger” when saying that limerick. I always thought that it must have been a historical or spelling pronunciation that was common enough at the time of its composition for the limerick to work.
Yes, that is the historical pronunciation and is obviously the one used in the limerick — nobody would have thought to rhyme with it if they used the modern one.
There was an old priest from Dun Laoghaire
Who stood on his head for the Kaoghaire.
When people asked why
He explained it all by
The latest liturgical thaoghaire.
There was a young poet from Slough
Who hadn’t prepared well enough.
He started to read
And then wished himself dead
He’d not really thought the rhymes through.
A handy limerick Schema:
There once was a [person] from [place]
Whose [body part] was [special case].
When [event] would occur
It would cause [him or her]
To violate [law of time/space].
the most famous such poem
Not in my world. I had to google it to figure out which limerick was being referenced.
But my google search revealed that at least in the 1950s it was popular enough that someone created a Latin translation:
Puella Rigensis ridebat
Quam tigris in tergo vehebat;
Externa profecta
Interna revecta
Sed risus cum tigre manebat.
I agree with Jerry that the old man from Nantucket is much better known, probably because dirty limericks make far deeper impressions on 10 year old boys and are more useful social currency.
@AntC: Thanks for rehabilitating the limerick with the town in New York.
@ulr: Thanks for the confirmation.
@DE: Dun Laoghaire
Very nice. Maybe you know this one too:
There was a young curate of Salisbury
Whose manners were quite halisbury-salisbury.
He wandered round Hampshire
Without any pampshire
Till the Vicar compelled him to walisbury.
@JF: Previously discussed here, among other atrocities.
Thanks, then there’s no “maybe”. I should have thought to check.
This happens all the time to all of us.
@Vanya:
Damn, I like that versus Limericensis.
Horace himself could have done no better.
The aged Nantucketer is perhaps the only person with famous [*] dirty and clean Limericks. There must already be a comic scene involving a dowager and spiv alluding at cross-purposes.
*Perhaps I mean unrelatedly famous, to exclude e.g. the clean position-to-Titian variants.
Excerpted from the original post of this thread, from the son of the Church of England Bishop of Limerick, who came for an honorary degree, later recalling the event:
“…he [the Bishop, in June, 1881] was greeted in the Sheldonian by cries of “Won’t you come up, come up, Won’t you come up to Limerick town?”–which we believe to be the correct form of the refrain. But the reason for the connection of the City of the Violated Treaty with this particular form of pasquinade remains, as Stevenson said of the young penny-whistler, ‘occult from observation.’”
I say, some North American Oxford students cried that refrain.
What say ye?