Limericks - Part 4 (Oh yes!)

September 10, 2007 at 05:44 AM · This thread from two-thousand O-five,

Must come back and still stay alive,

Our limericks are clever,

Let's see if we weather

Four-hundred ridiculous rhymes.

Replies (100)

September 10, 2007 at 02:29 PM · I fear, with disaster, I'm flirtin'

'Cause my neck, it does much too much hurtin'

My shoulder rest sucks

(And it cost forty bucks!)

I hope, for my fiddlin', it's not curtains

September 10, 2007 at 02:11 PM · my fiddle it wears on my back,

bus driver should cut me some slack.

The person behind me

shakes his strong fist at me

they could've fit were it not for my fiddle

September 10, 2007 at 02:25 PM · Oh, Laurie, please give it a rest

These limericks are well past their best

With danger I'm flirtin'

My ears they'll be hurtin'

Don't mean to insult all you folks!

September 10, 2007 at 02:29 PM · Dear Laurie, I want you to know

That really I do love you so

But this site's so addictive

I lose hours just sittin'

When I should be practisin' more!!!!!!!!!!!!!

September 10, 2007 at 04:52 PM · You don't have to take a straw poll

To know limericks are good for the soul.

You don't have to petition;

Just ask any musician

(Unless they're not out on parole).

September 10, 2007 at 04:56 PM · This small piece of Internet heaven

Is here for you twenty-four seven

To talk with your friends

And argue on end

Making practice time even more well-spent.

September 10, 2007 at 05:20 PM · I want to pay tribute to Laurie:

Punsters happily mine this quarry.

Bad rhymes and bad puns from

Violinist-Dot-Com,

More limericks-she'll be so sorry!

September 10, 2007 at 06:21 PM · What talents can we now uncover,

More poets out there to discover?,

For we can write lines,

Of beauty sublime,

Away from the sites' grumpy b*gg*rs **

Some like their lim'ricks with piety,

Formed with rev'rence and sobriety,

It's sinful to waste,

Those words of bad taste,

Best to use apt impropriety

** And if you're reading this, then by definition you don't fit into that category

September 10, 2007 at 06:27 PM · Alison,

Amen. ;)

September 10, 2007 at 06:31 PM · Laurie, t'is an angel you are

We would never have come this far

But for the help and advice

Dished out here day and night

Come on everyone, shout 'hurrah'!

September 10, 2007 at 06:53 PM · Last week I broke my first E string

And the cut it left on my hand did sting

I started to bawl

When I used alcohol

To do the required wound cleaning

I have since replaced that darned wire

But the new one is drawing my ire

It’s shrill, and it’s loud

It makes my eyes cloud

And my eardrums feel like they’re on fire

A string that’s aluminum-wound

Perhaps will make much better sound

But if it does not

Against it I’ll plot

And it too will wind up trash-bound

September 10, 2007 at 07:47 PM · No matter which exercise I try,

My muscles never will multipy,

My bowings a joke,

More down than upstroke,

Resembling Olive Oyl not Popeye

September 10, 2007 at 10:50 PM · A niece of the late Queen of Sheba

Got promiscuous with an ameoba.

This queer blob of jelly

Would lie on her belly,

And (panting) would murmer, "Ich Liebe."

How did Leopold Auer

Get all of his pupils to flower?

He slipped some amphetamines

Into their blue jeans,

And that's why they played with such power.

If violin competitions make you freak,

You can cure it within a week.

Don't be in a hurry,

Just listen to Buri,

And try Alexander's Technique.

Oh, you can keep your vibrato,

And your perfect downbow spiccato.

Forget all that work.

I may be a jerk,

But I'd rather win at the Lotto.

September 10, 2007 at 11:09 PM · The funniest ones are from Marcus,

They seem to flow from him without fuss.

His wit is so dandy,

Please give us more, Sandy,

More limericks, please, do appease us!

September 11, 2007 at 01:53 AM · I noticed when playing last week,

That I seem to be grinding my teeth.

Am I the only one,

Or are there some,

Who know of what I speak?

==

Eudoxa, a reasonable fee,

or so at the time it seemed.

I opened the mail,

My heart almost failed,

Upon discovering only a D!

September 11, 2007 at 03:36 AM · You guys are really a riot

Maybe one day I get up the nerve to try it

But until then

I'll just sit here and grin

And be thankful I'm not on a diet.

September 11, 2007 at 09:53 AM · With Kreutzer, Flesch, Rode and Ševčík,

you're fast and your bow is your joystick -

as technical junkie

you're still a trained monkey,

you can't make that noise, that's called... music. :(

A stone age violist with long chin

went out to his job in the cold dim,

but - what a disaster!

the glacier was faster,

rehearsal was done, when they found him.

Little riddle - which violin concerto am I?

Of course my dad tuned me in D,

six sisters are jealous of me:

two Cindies, one turkish,

two bastards, one posh dish.

Your tryst starts with "Column, right wheel!"

September 11, 2007 at 10:29 AM · Let's just call this one

"see-sawing duet in the wind"

I really was going to blow

But this thing is what I saw

A string that does flow

With a bow that's not all

The flute is still ready to go

September 11, 2007 at 11:49 AM · Foreword: A Cornetto is a brand of ice-cream in Europe. And 'Just One Cornetto' is such a well loved commercial in the UK that this rhyme had to be contrived.

A famous musician was hustling,

While Washington Station was bustling,

What did he get-o?

Just One Cornetto,

As the sole proceeds of his Busking!

September 11, 2007 at 01:18 PM · A fiddler of high reputation

played Bach at a metrorail station.

To his chagrin and regret-o

not even a palmetto

noticed his fine intonation.

September 11, 2007 at 03:22 PM · At school these computers all crashed

Now my homework time is trashed

Luckily orchestra is next

And in there my teacher will be vexed

For our scales terribly clashed

(Was that one?)

September 11, 2007 at 05:28 PM · Hi Misha, I've worked out your riddle,

It wasn't too much of a fiddle,

KV211?

Although it was done,

With special assistance from Google

September 11, 2007 at 06:09 PM · With apologies to all my violist colleagues :-(

While driving on the road at my leisure

A violist and conductor did measure

The road's distance to cross

Thought I "run down the boss!"

Because one should put business before pleasure:-)

September 11, 2007 at 08:48 PM · Heavy political stuff!

A number here voice their frustration,

At lack of public admiration,

Regrading Classics,

Our view Jurassic,

Is blocking Democratisation

September 11, 2007 at 09:16 PM · Political tongue-in-cheek response:

Long live elitist pretense!

We guardians of good taste and sense!

The alternative, maybe,

's just a bit demo-crazy.

...and to flame me you now may commence.

;-)

September 11, 2007 at 09:45 PM · Whilst you pass the grey poupon

rememberest how Like a Rolling Stone

said Napoleon abused

can't be refused

as he pares the meat from the bone(aparte)

;)

September 11, 2007 at 11:07 PM · Elitist talk just gives me such pain,

Back and forth, yet still nothing to gain.

To out-snob each other

Is just a big bother

(Mara, Jim is just yanking your chain!)

September 11, 2007 at 11:13 PM · Yes, of course I am. But you aren't!

September 12, 2007 at 04:50 AM · This limerick has gone on for so long

I don't quite know know how to respond,

I think I will play

A simple accolade

To this thread that seems never ending.

We played a piece by Beethoven

Who knew why a volist was chosen

To play the melody

Who could do it, surely not she!

At least the beauty was not broken.

September 12, 2007 at 10:52 PM · A propos this article ...

Now Russian musicians won't play -

They've gone off to have sex for the day.

But Maxim and Yuri

Are stamping in fury,

'Cos it doesn't apply if you're gay ...

September 12, 2007 at 11:20 PM · Cute one, Jim. It actually made me laugh. Sometimes the saddest truths can be the funniest. Ah, how I love irony. ;)

September 13, 2007 at 01:16 AM · The Brits are not so tuff,

Don`t care if you`re a poof. (pronounced puff)

However you fiddle,

Widdle or diddle,

True love is always enough.

September 13, 2007 at 01:53 AM · In Russia, near nine months from now,

Each woman will be fat as a cow.

Then all of a sudden,

Babies by the dozen!

...Cripes, Putin, what have you done NOW?

September 13, 2007 at 02:18 AM · There once was a fiddler named Buri

Who frequently typed in a hurry,

With letters akimbo

This guy was no bimbo,

And with prunes he could live without worry.

This stuff is hard! Please excuse me....

September 13, 2007 at 02:50 AM · His eyes began ballooning,

A likely precursor to swooning.

He pried and he strained,

But its position remained,

While stating that pegs are for tuning.

September 13, 2007 at 03:12 AM · Ian, that yours followed one mentioning prunes seems like it wasn't just a coincidence. Excellent use of a surprise ending. ;)

September 13, 2007 at 03:18 AM · The forgetful Sir Olflang Mont George,

Born on the hills of the Norge,

Was quite the cold fellow,

For he played iron cello,

Drawn from the blacksmiths forge.

September 13, 2007 at 03:46 AM · I don't know about Russia's birth rate

but expect an increase in the mirth rate.

Then again if they enjoyed it

they wouldn't avoid it.

(That's what happens when you lurk late). :)

September 13, 2007 at 10:06 AM · What Would You Like to Play Next?

Meditation from Thais?

No, Thank You

There's one song I hate with a passion,

It brings an allergic reaction,

That one from Thais,

Is surely a piece,

That desp'rately needs to be rationed

Though difficult here to admit it,

I know I'm on a sticky wicket,

Like watching paint dry,

Does not make time fly,

It's just as boring as the cricket

It really is gushy and slushy,

And horribly sickly and mushy,

It makes me feel ill,

Go green at the gills,

And end up just totally yucky

However it can have it's uses,

So Massenet does have excuses,

I hope he was paid,

For this dental aid,

As gentle torpor it induces

Actually Mutter's version was really nice. Perhaps I've just listened to too many amateurs like me murdering it.

September 13, 2007 at 10:13 AM · And having got that one off my chest....

If you need to wear something strapless,

You're entering territ'ry hapless,

Things could get obscene

(You know what I mean)

Though not a problem if you're bapless*

*bap: noun Brit. a soft, round, flattish bread roll.

September 13, 2007 at 11:28 AM · As a musical piece to prohibit

"Bolero" would be my exhibit.

So repetitive and charmless,

too dull to be called harmless,

the instruments go ibid., ibid., ibid.

September 13, 2007 at 11:54 AM · I wouldn't say that it's a musical hero,

But I enjoy the determination of Bolero.

Not too slow or too intense,

Like a march proudly riding the fence.

Not a ten, but quite far from zero.

September 13, 2007 at 11:49 AM · It's hard to play Brahms with Miss Rice,

when ill-prepared take this advice:

Don't waver - regret!!

And never forget,

she's a governing piano device!

A groupie asked Heifetz to show

the trick of his stáccato bow.

His charme was airtight,

with utter despite

and faintly he hummed: "I dunno...".

A groupie once asked Kreisler's Fritz

for the roots of his sensual wits,

a kiss on her hand,

makes her understand,

"11 pm in the Ritz?"

September 13, 2007 at 02:21 PM · By all accounts, Heifetz was mean -

A perfect but ice-cold machine.

No magic potion

Made his notes show emotion,

Not even the shifts in between.

But while Jascha's critics are now in fashion,

Even their hostile, vitriolic trashin'

Can't alter the fact

That he's a class act,

With excellence, beauty, and passion.

Ernest Chausson wrote his Poeme

Cause he said, "What I want is to show'em

That the human voice sucks.

There just aren't enough bucks

For me to write Tosca or Boheme."

That rascal, Giuseppe Tartini,

Made a pact with the Devil (The meanie!!!)

To give fiddlers bursitis

From Devil's Trill-itis,

In return for a supersized weenie.

September 13, 2007 at 01:28 PM · In the cello concerto of Finzi

the melodies are anything but chintzy.

So as much as you get off

on your Tchaik or Glazunov,

try something a little less blintzy.

September 13, 2007 at 02:06 PM · Mitchell, thanks for that revelation,

Sounds like a great recommendation,

These tunes bitter-sweet,

For me are quite neat,

This site is a real education.

September 13, 2007 at 03:37 PM · Alison, thank YOU so much.

Some pieces just have that touch.

And thanks for the enhancement

and linguistic advancement

of "baps" and "cornettos" and such.*

*Nowhere else on the map

would I have heard the word "bap."

September 13, 2007 at 05:07 PM · In common language we're divided,

Which can lead to us being derided,

Thongs for the Aussies,

Suspenders on Yankees,

Can get us Brits overexcited!

September 13, 2007 at 05:27 PM · Larry wrote: "Sometimes the saddest truths can be the funniest." [ ie the fact that gay couples can't bear children? ]

That's true - 'tis a terrible blight

That, through homo-erotic delight,

One can never accrue

A small Sammy or Sue;

At least, not if you're doing it right.

September 15, 2007 at 02:37 AM · Wow! What a conversation stopper!

Even Alison the noted head-chopper

has been stunned into silence!

Time to put down those violins

and rhyme--lest this thread come acropper.

September 15, 2007 at 04:28 AM · Jim,

Another amusing one. :) I must concede, I think you're better at this than I am, by far.

September 15, 2007 at 05:13 AM · I can't think of a fargin' new limerick

To be honest it's making me sick

i can just sigh

at the well that's gone dry

wait - LSD! That's the trick!

September 15, 2007 at 06:18 AM · Mitchell, I've had other things to do,

Chopped heads have last laugh -I've suffered too,

I can't keep your pace,

And run the full race,

Cos I'm banged up at home with mild flu

At first improvement in condition,

I've planned a minor expedition,

Local library,

To check out Finzi,

Let's see if it comes to fruition

I've just realised what 'banged up' means for Australians and Americans. Mock me now. It just means imprisoned here.

September 15, 2007 at 10:57 AM · If you're at a limerick-al low

prod your creative self like Miro'.

He discovered that starvation

could produce an hallucination

and from that point a painting could grow.*

* And it's cheaper than LSD :))

September 15, 2007 at 11:21 AM · Alison hope you're well souped

and soon no longer up you'll be cooped.

Also have some tea

while thinking of Finzi.

"Knocked up" is the expression for which you groped.

*"Banged up" is probably Aussie.

September 15, 2007 at 12:43 PM · O, Freunde, nicht diese dissing.

You really don't know what you're missing.

The limerick's fun is endless.

Don't end up friendless.

It's much more fun to be kissing.

September 15, 2007 at 02:34 PM · Some fiddling folks who could rhyme

Put their thoughts into taut triple time

But despite their virtuosity

With dotted monstrosities

Everything kind of scanned something like this. :-P

September 15, 2007 at 03:02 PM · Sandy, that's sehr interrresting,

as OJ might say, "quite arresting."

Folks open the nozzle--

don't be a schlimmazel--

and everyone join in the jesting.

September 15, 2007 at 03:43 PM · I just found a new diet.

Some of you should try it.

When hunger pings

Fiddle those strings.

Weight loss and musical profit.

September 15, 2007 at 03:50 PM · If aches, pains and cramps you are having,

Your temperatures hot like an oven,

Strap on a poultice,

No-one will notice,

But YOU might end up like Beethoven

September 15, 2007 at 04:26 PM · If you like listening to the Three Bs,

On You Tube there are loads of Freebies,

If Prince has his way,

They’d all go today,

And we’d have to buy more DVDs

(I'm a fan, but sometimes he is a wally)

For references wierd and hermetic,

Best not use hallucenogenics,

So Jim you don't need,

To take dope or speed,

But it helps if you're an eccentric

September 15, 2007 at 07:11 PM · Each suggestion here constantly lands

On Alexander's Technique for the hands.

What's with this approach?

If you need a coach,

Alexander's costs several grands.

September 17, 2007 at 06:24 AM · Poor Sander wonders about my mind*,

No sweat these rhymes are done in quick time,

So you can relax,

Say 10 minutes max,

Is all that it needs to do 5 lines

*Don’t worry this patient thinks she’s fine

When lack of practice begins to bite,

I benefit from this great insight,

With help from caffeine,

Become a machine,

That can work in darkness or daylight

Though ‘wonder drug’ in common parlance,

To render my consumption harmless,

Just one of tea,

For every coffee,

Will keep the yin and yang in balance

(My profile name has changed so that a local namesake classical guitarist isn't associated with these crhymes.)

September 18, 2007 at 08:13 PM · Let's not get too much into Freud;

It's the violin ideas we've enjoyed.

Besides, others I could name

Have an ulterior aim:

(To convince me that I'm paranoid).

September 19, 2007 at 08:04 AM · Oh how I hate limericks

The very thought makes me turn sick

Can't even bring myself to finish it.

September 19, 2007 at 09:39 AM · How come you rhyme is nothing but grime

Your prime rhyme aint worht a dime

rhyme good like you should

like you would in the hood

the way you rhyme is a organized crime

September 19, 2007 at 11:40 AM · That was inspired!

If looking on in trepidation,

It’s time for some quick preparation,

Threads 1,2 & 3,

Will fill you with glee,

Providing boundless inspiration

Ma-ry's F plan could be the real thing,

To stop the spreading of this dumpling,

Let's try this diet,

Bake it not fry it,

And avoid bustin' all our G Strings

Hey, look, loads of words rhyme with string, king, sing, fling, ring, ding, ling.....

September 19, 2007 at 11:55 AM · bling

September 19, 2007 at 01:32 PM · I got me ole timing from limericks threads

diddly ditt dot, run through my head.

My teach was glad, maybe a little sad,

that her theory books were replaced,

by poetry so bad.

September 19, 2007 at 03:27 PM · There once was a siren on cello,

Who loved almost every fellow.

She picked out a bow,

But she didn't know,

That his voice was sardonically mellow.

Some people say, "Get off your bum,

Stand up when you play with your chum!"

But I'm impossibly clunky.

It's so hard, I'm a monkey!

I have no opposable thumb.

Good council is hard to discover;

Harder yet, to find a good lover.

So simply be glad

When one’s not that bad.

And tell them to give back the cover.

September 19, 2007 at 04:16 PM · A fiddler in Waukegan

tried to play Bloch's Nigun.

But he just couldn't get it

'cause his genes weren't ethnic.

So he drowned himself in a lee-goon.

September 19, 2007 at 04:53 PM · When your dreams of great crowds applaudin',

A lack of a social lifes causin',

What will it getcha?

No-one will letch ya,

If your keynote is Eau de Rosin

September 19, 2007 at 05:53 PM · oops I can't write that here :)

September 19, 2007 at 09:26 PM · Is there no greater cause,

than endless applause,

or to claim the praise of stranger?

The world is in danger,

of chasing the wind, and holding fast to straws.

September 22, 2007 at 11:20 AM · Audience Experience of The Concert

For weeks now the anticipation,

And developing expectation,

Has made me confess,

And often obsess,

On thoughts of my pending elation

The day comes: nothing will defeat me,

Only smiling faces can greet me,

The journey's a breeze,

And passes with ease,

Like Irish, Road Rises To Meet Me

Arrival. The concert hall's buzzing,

With friends old and new, shoulder rubbing,

House lights are dimmer,

Circulates simmer,

Of breathless rev'rance for what's coming

The first note sounds and we're ecstatic,

For it's a sign firm and emphatic,

In commanding voice,

That there's but one choice:

Surrender to sounds autocratic

Time stands still. We've been here forever,

Pond'ring this catalogue of treasures,

Crowds out of focus,

I only notice,

The artist and I here together

Returning home, there's reminiscing,

On recent good times that we're missing,

Back to our ritual,

Things so habitual,

But glancing backwards for pure blissing

November 5, 2007 at 12:59 PM · Why is it that we stall?

Why isn't there a ball?

We waltz and waltz away...

Why's everyone so gay!?

It's sailing that we go

But down there in the bowl

Some spud from distant land

Some flying rubber band

Why is it that we stall?

Why isn't there a ball?

We waltz and waltz away...

Why's everyone so gay!?

If country clubs so nice

Had half the wondrous mice

We find in sugarland

The rats would have no end

Why is it that we stall?

Why isn't there a ball?

We waltz and waltz away...

Why's everyone so gay!?

The pool we had today

Not ice nor snow nor hail

It's down there past the drain

Sounds like Goliath's still in pain

Why is it that we stall?

Why isn't there a ball?

We waltz and waltz away...

Why's everyone so gay!?

The Acific Patlantic shun

The one that has no gun

It's STILL not having fun

Why is that everyone!?

Why is it that we stall?

Why isn't there a ball?

We waltz and waltz away...

Why's everyone so gay!?

November 5, 2007 at 01:25 PM · Of all the hurd of teachers

I had in college fair

The circus that it's call-led

There's one to pull my hair

They called her something stupid

I think it's because of her stare

Why was it that they think her plait

Is quality uncompare

She's heavy as set was big

But that's not how to swear

At her with e'vry vixen

Till she'll fall down the stair

Her eyes like two big orbits round

Went backwards into her head

She'd drool and then look up out of her bed

For something she'd not found

(nor pound)

Why is it this strange lady

Who everyone says is now dead

Still haunts my every window

And's call-led Queen Mab

November 5, 2007 at 01:38 PM · Hollywood's just a dream

Please hand me some more cream

So people can stare

How lovely's my hair

While they go to The Scream

November 5, 2007 at 02:01 PM · I'm sad these rickety eyes

Won't let my heart comply

With the love that I feel

That's constantly real

And blaming's not my style

November 5, 2007 at 02:21 PM · I miss you like a dream

Like funny silly toes

Like hamsters trying to get out

Of the round of the roundulation

And children they had feet

In Nijinsky's Vattsa's school

The book his sister wrote

From there there is a quote

And seagulls at the park

Teaching me to fly

Catching bread in the air

I love being pregnant again

November 5, 2007 at 07:04 PM · We stayed in one night to make dinner,

My guest said she was a beginner.

I hadn't a notion,

About things from the ocean,

So I called upon Ms.Spinner.

She stood crooked, hair gnarled and wavy,

And began to school us on gravy.

She stepped right in,

And finished our din!

There was no need to thank the lady.

The door quickly closed behind her.

What was seen, neither was quite sure.

Did she feel at all selfish,

While eating whole shellfish?

And what now to do about dinner?

November 6, 2007 at 07:47 PM · What's the name of that movie

That they're still going to make

Johnny's so slick

Brad Pitt's a hick

Let's just flush it away

November 7, 2007 at 01:19 PM · I have one or two proper limericks (or rather lime–ricks), but... You can't really post them here. so I have this: (Oh, and by the way scurvy was caused by the lack of vitamin C they say)

Where Brian Joubert?

Where's I bare? I'm bare right there?

Joubert?

There's I'm bare.

But where?

There.

I can't see.

Wanna see?

Yes I wanna see Brian Joubert.

Oh, but I told you. There I'm bare.

No I don't know. I wanna see.

I told you there I'm bare.

Where!?

Where I told you.

I don't see.

Well, you have to go there to see.

What!?

Okay I'll show you.

Oh

Nice

But what about Brian?

Who's Brian!?

November 9, 2007 at 02:04 PM · Her cheeks they are so bright,

The stars are out of sight.

What shall we do

With Juliet

Whose better than a lamp?

No more with these cheap oils

They camper more than boil

Why is it that

The cat whose back

Won't slither when they ...

November 9, 2007 at 05:35 PM · a quickie ^o^

There was a violist named Maia

who spent Christmas playing Messiah.

She dozed off at midnight,

but woke to a bright light -

she'd snoozed while the church was on fi-ah!

November 10, 2007 at 03:28 AM · I just got the new book by Ricci,

And he turns out to be quite a teachie.

Your left hand's the holder,

Which frees up your shoulder.

Now isn't that just simply peachie?

Though you may hate about what he is talking,

It's a revolution that Ricci is stalking -

Keep your hand in one place,

And it acts like a brace;

Let your fingers do all the walking.

November 11, 2007 at 01:44 PM · One and two and three

What is this we see?

The ticking stopped

The clock's been topped

gasp! We have a dead beat!

November 11, 2007 at 02:34 PM · Mc Gonagal she's a teacher

And IF you think you can cheat her

She'll tail like a cat

Wherver you're at

And send the chairs to meet you

November 11, 2007 at 03:37 PM · A violin student was wishin'

to practice while she was fishin':

"For the halibut, cookie!"

But her playing got flukey

and she floundered in her audition.

November 12, 2007 at 10:06 AM · A friend of mine was just concertmaster in a run of La Bohemé, so:

There was a young lady named Mimi.

"Rodolfo, I see's glad to see me.

But poem-boy lacks gumption

To deal with consumption,

So lately, I'd say, sucks to be me."

November 12, 2007 at 12:17 PM · That' doll that has the blues

It tells me of the news

I'll blow it up

And chop it up

And make it into glue

November 12, 2007 at 12:22 PM · The toomb-burr-airy

The noose of the day

And like just I say

They are completely gay

Why am I! so distraced-ed

(from Jo)

November 13, 2007 at 02:29 PM · The art of ventriloquism

That's how you shoot som j#$&*sm

Just let it speak

From beat to beat

And say "heh here's some Mozart..."

November 13, 2007 at 03:52 PM · "ventriloquism" and "Mozart" rhyme?? ;-)

November 14, 2007 at 06:05 AM · And how much money did you make?

You and your sick people

Come into my life that way

To desecrate my steeple!?

November 14, 2007 at 11:27 AM · A violinist perky and funky

said that she found me quite hunky.

For a while we went out

till she started to pout

and I went back to slapping the monkey.

November 14, 2007 at 01:08 PM · Are all luthiers so hard-pressed,

To discover one who’ll confess,

A superior wood,

That’s consistently good,

At producing what the heavens possess?

I made my Strad from a del Gesu.

And while most concert halls refuse me,

I’m still very glad,

I moved the f holes a tad,

With permanent marker and car key.

What else is unique of my fiddle?

Oh the differences are vastly little!

The sound post is rock,

And I removed all the blocks.

The neck only wiggles a little.

I threw out all the fine tuners,

And wish I had done it sooner.

I now turn the pegs,

With my teeth and both legs,

But Pliers make adjustments much smoother.

So many are in awe of the sound,

That they often drop right to the ground!

Like a dry field of grain,

They fall at sustains,

And cry like a pack of wild hounds.

November 14, 2007 at 11:03 PM · I found this website

one quiet night

I dont remember what I was looking for

but there it was the great v.com door

I lurked for a week

and then joined ever so meek

I can't believe I lived for so long

without the wisdom of ya'll

November 15, 2007 at 11:35 AM · Chops he stood like a gargoyle

At the entrance which was a door

If a guillotine it was

the house itself

Would have been simply sideways

http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/d/dickens/charles/d54gi/

http://www.fullbooks.com/A-House-to-Let2.html

November 15, 2007 at 01:57 PM · A song there's in the woods

From trees and quite some bees

Why is it that

Since that holy strad

Mine are considered worthless!?

And could you turn us over

With no seperation

As if we're in the clover

With your anticipation

masnation indigterbation

And turn us around

where we would be bound

For further down the road

Jesus might come down

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