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Limericks - Part 3 (Oh, no!)

Life in general: The title says it all.

From Sander Marcus
Posted July 26, 2007 at 04:08 PM

Oh, for a muse of fire (and rhyme),
Limericks get to me all the time.
So please create a dilly,
Even if it's silly,
It's the Olympus of verse we climb.

From Mischa S.
Posted on July 26, 2007 at 04:26 PM
:)

A tightwad used once - with great success!
a tamed alligator as shoulder rest
he played with such ease,
the gator agrees:
this fellow's now playing shoulderless.

From Albert Justice
Posted on July 26, 2007 at 04:53 PM
Oh'm'God!
From Albert Justice
Posted on July 26, 2007 at 04:53 PM
Sander's gonna start doing limericks at Walmart before it's over....

Me thinks the price,
is way too high.
Go to Isle 8,
for a much better buy.

From Anne Horvath
Posted on July 26, 2007 at 05:13 PM
There once was a fiddler named Maura,
That gave off Hungarian aura.
She worships Szigeti
And plays a Moretti
So now Joska tips his fedora!

heh heh.

From Mischa S.
Posted on July 26, 2007 at 05:18 PM
A time warp brought Beethoven to '08,
he went to a doc for an hearing aid.
When he heard afresh,
it's been such a trash,
that he switched off the aid and went back straight.
From Mitchell Pressman
Posted on July 26, 2007 at 06:04 PM
There was a performer named Cage
who sent audiences into a rage.
At the piano he'd linger
but not raise a finger.
Till a guy said: "at least clean the stage!"
From Sander Marcus
Posted on July 26, 2007 at 06:33 PM
I don't care if Cage was the tannest.
To me he was the blandest.
What I want to know,
Instead of a prepared piano,
Is a well-prepared pianist.
From Mitchell Pressman
Posted on July 26, 2007 at 08:40 PM
And then there was Sibelius,
brilliant if somewhat rebellious.
How could such a muse
survive all that booze?
I must confess that I'm jeal-i-ous.
From Maura Gerety
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 02:42 AM
Anne, that is f***ing brilliant. ;-) Although I'm (whenever possible) going by my Hungarian/Czech/pan-European/pronounceable name, "Mara", now...glad I stuck to the Irish version long enough for you to write that limerick!
From Alison Smith
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 06:32 AM
Now we are all lyrical junkies,
Who seem to be acting like flunkies,
We need to get down,
The Bridge with James Brown,
It's Friday, so let's 'Make It Funky!'
From Christopher Burndrett
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 03:27 PM
Milstein or Heifetz, we pontificate.
Shoulder rest or restless we vacillate.
Then we spend time,
with ridiculous rhymes
But with scales and etudes we procrastinate.
From Anne Horvath
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 04:18 PM
All these obsessive contests of rests,
All these gabfests of protested tests,
I am not impressed,
They make me depressed,
All these inquests: ridiculous jests!

And young Gerety, watch your language please! :)

From Alison Smith
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 04:30 PM
Jim wanted the name of the wine,
T'was mentioned in previous line,
But if you were to,
Try Ali's home brew,
You would lose track of space and time.
From Christopher Burndrett
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 04:52 PM
Violin or Viola we jest.
It's time to put it to rest.
A viola might find
A right note sometimes,
But man are they good at the rests.
From Albert Justice
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 05:09 PM
I practice early because I must work late,
It's scales and etudes as I don't tempt fate.
With bubble gum in hand, thank God for solid land,
Christopher on this one you were wrong my man.
From Maura Gerety
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 05:45 PM
Yes, my language occasion'lly is coarse,
And I've been known to shout myself hoarse.
When all logic's in shambles,
That's when my speech resembles
That of a hussar who's mad at his horse.
From Christopher Burndrett
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 07:02 PM
Some of us post tall tales.
Some shoot straight as nails.
Although we don't know
What's true or for show,
Albert plays etudes and scales.
From Albert Justice
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 07:12 PM
Christopher should look at himself.
I would suspect he 'he' tells the tales.
Rather point fingers, at folks he don't know,
now Christopher, do go practice your scales.

Make Oliver proud if you would.
Just serious practice if you could,
Caprice 24, waits at the door,
as I pick meself up laughing down on the floor.

From Christopher Burndrett
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 07:10 PM
Hey Albert,

This is supposed to be fun and light. I meant no harm.

From Christopher Burndrett
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 07:14 PM
Honest and diligent
Hurtful and militant
Albert is wrong
To sing such a song
"Why can't we just all get along?"
From Albert Justice
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 07:20 PM
Absolutely....
From Albert Justice
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 07:23 PM
Christopher's memory isn't so long,
fun at other's expense is what's wrong.
I poke enough fun at me self,
I need no help, but thanks just as well.
From Christopher Burndrett
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 07:27 PM
Whether misunderstanding or hearts on our sleeve,
I had no intention to hurt my colleague.
With a promise of friendship, and quite humbly,
Please accept a sincere apology.
From joel levin
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 08:17 PM
There was a maestro named Szeryng
Who oft played pickled like herring
With concertos of Brahms and Beethoven
He would imbibe his Tanqueray Ten
But coke for Bach to not lose his bearing
From Jim W. Miller
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 08:40 PM
Heartily I'd partake of the home brew
and in classical style, perhaps drink from her shoe
and while drugged by her grace
forget time and space
and give good hospitality its due.
From Christopher Burndrett
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 08:37 PM
“More bow! More bow!”
I’ve heard all my life
“I try! I try!”
With diligent strife
“It’s hard! So hard!”
To play crescendos
When my bow is haired
With hair from my nose
From Jim W. Miller
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 08:44 PM
Limericks only, no rapping.
From Mitchell Pressman
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 08:51 PM
There once was a freshman at Oberlin
who went by the nickname of "Sober Lynn."
Once her roommate, she drank
till, returning quite rank,
she passed out after getting sick all over Lynn.
From Anne Horvath
Posted on July 27, 2007 at 11:54 PM
Another for Gerety:

A naughty word just might be spicy,
But such salty language is dicey!
An end to this Sitcom
If you drop the F-bomb,
So please pick your adjectives nicely!

From Maura Gerety
Posted on July 28, 2007 at 12:20 AM
Hey, at least I used asterisks...
From Anne Horvath
Posted on July 28, 2007 at 02:35 AM
All in good fun.
From Maura Gerety
Posted on July 28, 2007 at 03:00 AM
Just adding a little extra-spicy paprika to the mix...don't mind me. ;-)
From Mitchell Pressman
Posted on July 28, 2007 at 03:27 AM
An occasional F-Bomb is okay.
It's just a brief reference to noo-kay.
Just don't overdo it
and generally, eschew it
(and make sure not to play hoo-kay).
From Eric Godfrey
Posted on July 28, 2007 at 03:57 AM
[My favorite music limerick, from my late father when I was young back in the 1950's. Try reciting this quickly.]

A tutor who tooted the flute
Tried to tutor two tooters to toot.
Said the two to the tutor:
Is it harder to toot,
Or to tutor two tooters to toot?

From Alison Smith
Posted on July 28, 2007 at 10:40 AM
It's Sander who this thread has skippered,
With Anne's criticism now peppered,
So What? 'Och well',
'We'll a' flame in hell',**
For what we've writ, we'll a' git kippered.


** Alternative ending nicked from Curtis Mayfield in case you can't understand my Scots accent.

If there's hell below,
We're all gonna go,

From Alison Smith
Posted on July 28, 2007 at 08:11 AM
Once you've got your tootin' right,
If tongue twisters you really like,
Just put your teeth in,
Do some deep breethin',
Say quick, 'I saw a ship in sight'
From Albert Justice
Posted on July 28, 2007 at 08:31 AM
Christopher Christopher my friend,
forgive my obsessive Chagrin.
I live life's real drama
with lovely persona,
my fiddle is truly, my friend.

I truly work like two men. And, I'm rathah pretty as well! ;). (Henry Fielding pronunciation)

From Anne Horvath
Posted on July 28, 2007 at 01:00 PM
The weekend is too lazy to nag,
I'll stop acting too much like the drag.
D scales, they do call me
And etudes, do thrall me,
It's too hot to make a finger wag!
From Michael Baer
Posted on July 28, 2007 at 06:09 PM
There was a blond fiddler of yore
Who thought OshKosh was Haut Couture
In the Gardens of Spain
She played Old Refrain
Gosh, was that Kreisler, Pugnani, or Spohr?
From Christopher Burndrett
Posted on July 28, 2007 at 05:28 PM
My rosin is sticky
My teacher is picky
The music’s so tricky
I’m lost all the time.
My neck is so itchy
Darn violin hickey
I do wish the hickey
Was the other kind.
From Mitchell Pressman
Posted on July 28, 2007 at 08:18 PM
There once was a rhymer in Canton
who took liberties with limericks that were wanton.
They were plain old rhyming lines;
and eight at a time!
That dog it just ain't huntin'.


*We're a tough bunch on this thread, Christopher:))

From Maura Gerety
Posted on July 28, 2007 at 10:52 PM
A sonnet would be nice right about now,
But to write one, I fear, I know not how.
Ah Shakespeare, egad!
How I wish I had
Such brains that to write would allow.
From Christopher Burndrett
Posted on July 28, 2007 at 11:51 PM
Mitch it is true, my posts have been plenty.
Amends have been made, for being too pithy.
With an offer of peace, there’s no need to fight
But frankly, I think your G-string’s too tight. :)

Disclaimer:
The author of this post has no ill-intent regarding work ethic, moral principles, religious convictions, mental stability, or skill level. It just rhymed real good-like. :-}

From Jim W. Miller
Posted on July 29, 2007 at 04:59 AM
Please take note of the rhyme
you disgusting nonlimericking slime.
It's AABBA
if you want to play.
We're not here to have a good time.
From Christopher Burndrett
Posted on July 29, 2007 at 02:00 AM
My ignorance - I apologize.

What an idiot I must seem
To friends held high in esteem.
Shed form for a time
To show my behind
Geez, can you tell I'm green?

From Jim W. Miller
Posted on July 29, 2007 at 02:33 AM
I transformed his poetic catastrophe
into wonderful limerick mastery
Now he'll have a ball
outdoing us all
and I'm out of debt to humanity.
From Alison Smith
Posted on July 29, 2007 at 05:40 AM
Now Pauline could not solve the riddle,
Of where was the guy playing fiddle,
That made her think,
He'd had too much drink,
And he had gone off for a piddle

That was close, I nearly put the punchline in the link at the beginning.

From Mischa S.
Posted on July 29, 2007 at 08:37 AM
A man just popped up in a bow spat,
and pronto this fellow made clear that,
he knew everything,
of price, style and swing.
An expert? No, just Morbus Bo(w)rat.
From Alison Smith
Posted on July 29, 2007 at 09:16 AM
Since Maura enjoys literary references...

Some think that the British are haughty,
(In fact we have always been naughty),
Chaucer's Wife of Bath*,
Was good for a laugh,
The old stuff could not be more saucy

*Alison, Wife of Bath, was a strumpet, which fits very well with crumpet. But that's too cluttered.

From Jim Hoyle
Posted on July 29, 2007 at 02:20 PM
A violinist, begging for alms,
Announced, "I don't have any qualms
About living this way;
It's how I get my pay
Every day that I practise the Brahms."
From Christopher Burndrett
Posted on July 29, 2007 at 05:06 PM
There once was a luthier lad
Who's fiddles weren't all half bad
With wine he's up late
Graduating his plates
With enough wine, they all sound like strads
From Jim Hoyle
Posted on July 29, 2007 at 06:01 PM
A violinist, lacking in flair,
Who, playing Bartholdy, did err,
Said, "Now, don't get me wrong -
It's ~called~ 'Wings of Song',
But right now it's 'Wing and a Prayer'".
From Jim Hoyle
Posted on July 29, 2007 at 06:06 PM
A violinist, coming unstuck
In a difficult passage by Bruch,
Said "Now that bit's not right,
But was OK last night,
And, anyway, who gives a damn?"
From Alison Smith
Posted on July 30, 2007 at 11:39 AM
My playing is so scary that,
It's emptied the surrounding flats,
Have done too much work,
D'blestopping Bartok,
That no-one will want to move back.
From Sander Marcus
Posted on July 30, 2007 at 12:50 PM
Reading these limericks, you think none can beat us?
If Heifetz were alive, he'd want to meet us?
Our playing's better (I hope),
'Cause these poems just mope;
They're a sort of musical fetus.
From Alison Smith
Posted on July 30, 2007 at 05:40 PM
Bach's music was inspired by worship,
Producing wonderful workmanship,
But the origin,
Of his religion?
InterPlanetaryFunkmanship
From Mitchell Pressman
Posted on July 30, 2007 at 06:33 PM
A busker was playing Dvorak
when a passerby said "play some more, Jack."
"Give me a fin
and I'll play more violin."
And the guy said "you're now on ignore, Jack."
From Mischa S.
Posted on July 30, 2007 at 06:35 PM
A kitten once played Shostakovic
but she played with (let's call it) low pitch
her luthier - that stinks! -
used her for some strings
her very last thought? "... life's a bitch!"
From Jim Hoyle
Posted on July 30, 2007 at 10:11 PM
Paganini, when teaching Miss Xet Xiang Ho,
Said, "You're going to progress ere I'll let you go!"
They started Cantabile,
Progressed to Amabile,
And ended up Moto Perpetuo.
From Mitchell Pressman
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 02:23 AM
A tourist traveling alone
will get ripped off in Barcelone.
And with any wisdom
you'll avoid Lisbon.
And don't even ask about Rome.
From Mitchell Pressman
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 02:36 AM
A pianist and very hard worker
tried so hard to play a mazurka.
But though he was hell-bent
he was lacking in talent
so now he's an internet lurker.
From Alison Smith
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 06:45 AM
Travelling in Europe is painless,
You can visit monuments endless,
Or go past the Med,
And get very red,
And keep asking, 'Doo Yoo Speek Aingleesh?'
From Mitchell Pressman
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 12:24 PM
If French or Spanish makes you skittish
consider a vacation British.
Useless artifacts
the Brit Museum never lacks.
But one must never get snittish.
From Mischa S.
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 11:59 AM
A lewd dude, who sang his last farewell,
expelled by a stone guy to flared hell,
(his scout had to log
all chicks in his BLOG):
that's Don Giovanní in a nutshell.
From Alison Smith
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 12:07 PM
If for Istanbul you book a flight,
Then your holiday will be alright,
Fresh spice you can get,
Close to minarets,
And to finish - some Turkish Delight!
From Mitchell Pressman
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 01:12 PM
Oh how I love southern Europe.
At times yes my eyes even blur up.
In the cathedrals
I feel protected from evil
(but some of the foods make me bur-up.)
From Maura Gerety
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 01:53 PM
It's hot in that region this year,
Romania's melting, I fear.
Hungary's roasting,
The Balkans are toasting!
And the Czechs are too hot to drink beer.
From Mitchell Pressman
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 02:32 PM
When the Czechs are too hot to drink beer
you know that the end is quite near.
And they're roasting like wieners
all over Slovenia
so together let's all shed a tear.
From Alison Smith
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 04:53 PM
Close inspection of threads would relate,
That the most oft-repeated debate,
Is 'Whether it's best,
To use shoulder rest?'
IF AFFIRMATIVE, EXTERMINATE!!!!
From Christopher Burndrett
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 09:15 PM
Kreisler was a king to bestow
With vibrato and passion aglow
From Sicilienne to Corelli
In the style of Pugnani
He gave us Love's Joy and Love's Sorrow.
From Jim W. Miller
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 06:12 PM
The shoulder rest thing is a nit
to pick while with fiddle you sit
when you started late.
Bbw's you'll date,
so why not just get on with it
From Albert Justice
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 06:54 PM
Me fiddle's got perfect proportions,
no gravity inspired distortions,
may have started late,
but don't believe in fate,
Age has no bearing on who one should date.

All women are alright with me,
it's what inside I'm lookin to see.
And do they have hatchets,
in purses as ratchets?
Now this, could make me take flee.

From Mitchell Pressman
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 07:10 PM
A salute to ol' Scarlatti,
who got accused at times of being snotty.
Being totally immune
to attempts his motives to impugn,
he went to work on another sonat-y.
From Christopher Burndrett
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 07:46 PM
As a student I can attest
My playing was laboriously stressed
With a well fitted rest
I found effortless zest
Play without, if you haven’t a neck.
From Alison Smith
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 08:39 PM
Oh Mitchell, now give me some credit,
I've spotted that you've done an edit,
With Buckingham,
Went Prince's b*m?,
Too late, I had already read it.

Off with your head!

(Actually my first thought was the artist called Prunce, and jam)

From Mitchell Pressman
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 09:17 PM
On re-read I thought it too randy
so I found the edit mode handy.
I redid it quite tamely
and I must confess, lamely,
But at least someone saw it: that's dandy.
From Sander Marcus
Posted on July 31, 2007 at 11:51 PM
Playing Liebeslied, I'm Kreisler's clone.
But then I got a call on the phone.
It was a musician,
Who took the position,
"Why don't you just liebus alone."
From Alison Smith
Posted on August 1, 2007 at 06:39 AM
To compare with Bach there is nothin',
And for Kreisler I am a glutton,
Rimsky Korsakov,
Can't get enough of,
But Bartok pushes all my buttons.
From Mitchell Pressman
Posted on August 1, 2007 at 01:24 PM
Bartok was to percussion
as Alaska is to mushin'.
His use of celesta
just outdid the rest o'
the composers, whether British or Russian.
From Alison Smith
Posted on August 1, 2007 at 03:27 PM
Buying a new fiddle is wearing,
Selection criteria's ailing,
Shrill French, not for me,
Forget Italy ($£$£$£$£),
Bring on the Big Bellied Bavarians
From Jim Hoyle
Posted on August 2, 2007 at 05:25 PM
There was a violinist from Buckingham
Who did lewd things with ducks before cooking 'em,
Playing "White Cliffs of Dover"
To a clutch of their ova
And instructing his granny on sucking 'em.

___________________________________

There was a violinist called Ilya
Who campaigned to get Bach played much frillier.
He waggled his thumb
While extending his bum,
But it just made it sound even sillier.

From Alison Smith
Posted on August 2, 2007 at 09:36 PM
For the rudest lyrics in the land,
Which could never be described as bland?
British Sea Shanties,
O'which there are plenty,
Though in modern times, they would be banned.

If we are lucky this chronicle,
Will achieve the highest pinnacle,
Get out your fiddle,
Have a quick diddle,
Shouting out loud, 'Bless Me Barnacles'

But Captain Pugwash was innocent. He didn't say those rude words.

From Maura Gerety
Posted on August 3, 2007 at 01:59 AM
Now that we're talking about naughty lyrics, ever heard any Russian chastushki?
From Jim W. Miller
Posted on August 3, 2007 at 02:27 AM
Ha! That's some sick stuff.
From Mischa S.
Posted on August 3, 2007 at 09:28 AM
Chastushkis would make some here sea sick,
the editor'd act with some mouse clicks:
it's not just one f-word,
it's f-content alert.
(I know that as tight-lipped Chastushknik.)

.............................................................

Still Allison fancies this poem thread
and pityingly with shaking head she said
to us prosa losers
and U.S.-muse-abusers:
"While thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head..."

From Alison Smith
Posted on August 4, 2007 at 08:14 AM
Ignorance is bliss, so they tell me,
And for all I know it might as well be,
Now you can surmise,
That I'm not streetwise,
Cause I never heard a Chastushki

We Celtic people are spiritual,
It's said that we even have rituals,
We dance round the stones,
Cast Fortune from bones,
And that will stop us getting wrinkles

From Jim W. Miller
Posted on August 4, 2007 at 08:40 PM
I'd write you a good chastuski
but it would get me the nooseki
the babushka would go
"Sergy, spasibo
for not forgetting about my cabooski."
From Jim Hoyle
Posted on August 4, 2007 at 11:05 PM
Oh Alison, cast me a charm
That will not only keep me from harm,
But will make my up-bow
No longer cause woe
And make me play like Gil Shaham.
From Alison Smith
Posted on August 5, 2007 at 11:24 AM
Jim H, we'll try some faerie voodoo,
With pixies, kelpies and Ghillie Dhu,
We'll get out the pot,
And give it a shot,
And make a Yehudi out of you*

No matter what life you are livin',
You're judged on the fun you have given,
You don't need to fret,
Or harbour regret,
Chastushkniks will all go to heaven

*If there is any magic left over, I badly need it

From Mischa S.
Posted on August 5, 2007 at 11:33 AM
Well, once Macedonian freaks
went out to lampaste all those Greeks,
the Persians deep-fried,
half Egypt just sighed:
"Antique Alexander-technique".

***

Frustrated of playing Bach-fugas?
Your Bártok sounds messed up and FUBAR?
play Mozart goes Doom
in timely costume.
Salieri? Just reload your Luger...

From Maura Gerety
Posted on August 5, 2007 at 02:36 PM
"Alexander technique"....*GROAN!*
From Alison Smith
Posted on September 9, 2007 at 01:01 PM
If Hilary's Hahns weren't their nicest,
And Repin was wrestlin' his Vices,
Suppose Vengerov,
Had a Chestikov,
Then Prunes would cure all of their Crises
From Larry Rhodes
Posted on September 9, 2007 at 06:37 PM
To Jim, the muse for this limerick, this is JUST a joke. Don't take it personally or seriously. It was just too much fun to write a "poem" about you, and once I did, well, I couldn't just let it go to waste. You're cool despite being cantankerous. ;)

-----

Jim Miller’s a flippant curmudgeon
Who causes folks to want to bludgeon
Lucky for him
Such acts are a sin
Or he might end up food for a gudgeon

-----

From Ronald Mutchnik
Posted on September 9, 2007 at 04:53 PM
When attempting to do a vibrato
Keep it simple- that is my motto
If you yank and you twist
I'd say stop and desist
You'll have better luck winning the lotto!
From Larry Rhodes
Posted on September 9, 2007 at 04:56 PM
Ronald,

Excellent. :)

From Ian Burkard
Posted on September 9, 2007 at 07:28 PM
There once was a fiddler gone mad
That drew on the neck of his strad
His beautiful wife
Who had lost her life
To cover the frets that he had.
===
There's tell of a fiddler named Sam,
Who played with a single hand.
His bow never strayed,
Though a hook with he played!
Hats off to that fiddling man.
===
Before there were Strads and Del Gesui
People played quite profusely
On the rubber band box
And dried cats with pox
But now we are all so choosey.
From Alison Smith
Posted on September 9, 2007 at 08:19 PM
La-rry, you're about to discover,
That this thread can't go on much farther,
Pay no heed to Jim*
We'll never please him,
But here you can get off with murrrder

*Actually that's a really funny site with a lot of dry humour like Jim's, but I should still 'do a Prince' now and change my name

From Larry Rhodes
Posted on September 9, 2007 at 10:00 PM
Alison,

*chuckle*

Ian,

The same. ;)

From Larry Rhodes
Posted on September 10, 2007 at 12:15 AM
Well, I had so much fun coming up with that last limerick about Jim, that I just couldn't stop myself from trying another one. Though, for this one, I'm afraid I had to sort of make up some words. ;)

-----

When Jim becomes much too cantankerous
You'd do well to be equally spankerous
A whipping, you see,
Causes most kids to be,
For doing good deeds, rather hankerous

-----

From Laura Madden
Posted on September 10, 2007 at 04:40 AM
There once was a violin web site
which brought much joy and insight
Just don't say the "best"
or the words "chin rest"
or you'll be reading well after midnight
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