Violin Limericks
Seeing that limericks about violins, violinists, and classical music was a "hit" on the jokes discussion (now archived), how about continuing? The limericks can be original or not, but please keep it clean.
Replies (100)
Though I've often heard various folks say
That to keep limericks clean is ok,
I am always surprised
By what gets bowdlerized.
Like "the rosy HEN (!) greets the new day."
In this matter, Tom Lehrer's my moulder
When he wrote, in days simpler - though bolder -
That when anything's viewed
By the lewd, it gets skewed.
"Filth is in the mind of the beholder"
There once was a man from Nantucket
..err, wait a second.
There once was a pupil who practiced
But his teacher declared, "all he lacks is...
Some je ne sais quoi"
But the pupil said "naw"
And today he's recording for Naxos!
There once was a man from Nantucket,
Played fiddle, but lacked skills to pluck it;
Said his wife, "Pizzicato
In such fits and starts!" So
She said where she wished he had stuck it.
Playing Paganini in your grotto
Can cause your fingers to clotto.
I do believe
You need to achieve
A kind of legato spicatto.
A fiddler who liked to play thirds
Was followed by loud squawking birds.
Not only did they
Mess up his day,
They filled his violin case with....seeds.
At every rehearsal ('bout noon),
A violinist would spit while he'd tune.
When his fiddle got full,
He was ready (no bull) --
Cause he stole the conductor's spittoon.
Today was my lesson,
Oh shoot, I forgot!
and now i am bored
little siblings or not.
my concert did suck
and i need much help
on bowings and augments
and maybe a little luck.
Even when they pay me top dollar,
I always complain and holler
When they seat me first fiddle
To play all that twiddle.
Life's just too short to play Mahler.
A violin expert's my role.
I know everything pole to pole.
But I can't figure out
Who was the lout
Who snuck in and rolled up the scroll.
The music of de Sarasate
Can be used to impress any hottie.
You don't have to ask,
Just play Caprice Basque,
Light some candles, and serve a Hot Toddy.
For all our fiddler computin's,
Fingers can't defy laws like Newton's.
It's clear that Bazzini
Was a real meanie
For writing La Ronde des Lutins.
A boy who was known as Don,
Wanted to sound like Hilary Hahn,
But when he picked up a fiddle,
It broke right in the middle,
And then his great ambition was gone.
I go on the web to meander,
and sometimes come here for a gander.
But it's hard not to squawk
John Hiatt whips Bach.
I'm more useless here than ol' Sander.
I ragged on the limerick shrink
and now I feel like a fink
turn me into a carcass
and give it to Marcus
Will he try to change what it think?
Dear Jim, your response is Jim-dandy.
From now on I'll keep it handy.
Even though it's my ego you're nursin',
Just think of me as an ordinary person.
Cordially, your admiring friend, Sandy.
------------
What you notice at Heaven's gates
Is violinists rejected at high rates.
It's not sins' reprises
St. Peter despises,
It's the out-of-tune octaves he hates.
If I say something dumb, I don't dread it,
Cause you guys are there to edit.
Am I always hopin'
That my brain is open
To learning new things? You said it.
A violinist like David Nadien
Is the best that I've ever seen.
He serves up a confection
Of grace plus perfection,
And he's done it since he was a teen.
The secret to playing a coda
Is to apply the wisdom of Yoda:
Go back to the source,
Just feel the force,
And you'll play like Vasa Prihoda.
My brain is in limerick mode,
Whether at work or my abode.
I can't stop the rhyme
No matter the time,
And my wife tells me to hit the road.
Arguing on this website leaves a scar,
Disagreements have at times gone too far.
You're artists; don't duel.
Use the Golden Rule.
You're entitled to be who you are.
By all accounts, Corelli
Was actually a very nice felly.
But considering the Baroque
Bathrooms were a joke,
He probably was very smelly.
There was once a player of the violin
who was really very, very thin
His name was Niccolo Pagannini
and rumour has it that he was a bit of a meanie
But when he took the violin in his hands
he was always surrounded by many fans
most were of the female gender
who to his emotive vibes did surrender
He titilated the senses in every way
women travelled miles to hear him play
and to this day his music lives on
bursting hearts and fingers with melodic song
YOU GUYS ARE SO TALENTED AT POETRY! I'm jealous! hahah
Hi, Julie: It's just like the violin -- practice, practice, practice. And the first thing to practice is the rhythm. If you'll look carefully at the best limericks (not necessarily mine), notice PRIMARILY the rhythm. Practice dreaming up words that fit the rhythm, no matter what the words are. This is where having musical training is an incredible plus. Once you've got the rhythm, just play with the words. Write the first and last lines before anything else. Always put the funniest idea, the punchline, the key word, last. Then it's a matter of trial and error. Work at it, and I think you'll find it will also help your violin playing, because it gets you used to listening to EVERYTHING in rhythms.
It ain't Shakespearean sonnets; you can do it with a little practice, and I'm so happy to see people trying their hand at it in this discussion thread.
For the past few weeks, I've been in "limerick mode," and while it probably won't last (because I'll get sick of it), I'm starting to drive my family crazy. I just had a family brunch today with my wife, sister and her husband, niece and nephew, and my 90-year-old mother. My mother LOVES Wheel of Fortune. So my mind started spinning (just like the wheel), and out came:
Each contestant who appears on The Wheel,
Does exactly the same stupid spiel.
They tighten their bowel
And all buy a vowel,
And act like a perfect schlemeel.
Cordially, Sandy Marcus
The violin is sure hard to play
So practice and practice all day
If you're not a quitter
You're sure to get better
Or, at least, that's what they all say!
The Beethoven concerto's a beauty
Paganini D major's a cutie
Barber is great
Tchaikovski's my taste
Wieniawski is fun, not a duty.
"There once was a pupil who practiced
But his teacher declared, "all he lacks is...
Some je ne sais quoi"
But the pupil said "naw"
And today he's recording for Naxos!"
VERY NICE.
There was once a fellow from Tunis
Who was always practicing Dounis.
At concerts they'd razz him
'Cause his fingers would spasm
(And that's how the fiddle can ruin us).
When the Godfather meets with his mob,
He explains why he likes Danse Macabre:
"That violin song
Makes me want to do wrong,
So it's easy to steal and rob."
I advise then that he not listen to Danse Macabre...
Jenna, your advice was heeded by The Don.
All evil in him is gone.
He now spends his day
Volunteering without pay,
And listening to Hillary Hahn.
Da boss said to Lucky Luciana
call Bugsy in Gary Indiana
I'm gonna do a hit
in just a little bit
I heard dat violin song againa
Fair fingers the string did pluck
Clear notes did her instrument utter
Time and again
To herself she would mutter
These limericks surely do suck
Defenders of the limerick are few,
Cause its faults are easy to view.
Even though it spreads mirth,
It's only worth
Two-thirds of a pun - P.U.
A word of the wise:
George Bush wanted to learn the violin,
He knew his intelligence he wouldn't win.
So he hired an instuctor,
Hoping to learn 42 Studies, Kreutzer.
And so the violin he did begin.
He started by holding the bow,
And plucking all of the strings in a row.
He hummed each pitch in his head
"That's weird" he then said,
"I swear that each string sounds too low."
With just 2 weeks of lessons, I'm aware
That something made Bush quickly declare,
"Tommorrow I will amaze all,
As I play solo at Carnegie Hall."
"Now I will leave to go there."
Knowing his pupil wasn't too bright,
Bush's teacher sadly said alright.
Bush went to New York,
To show off two weeks of work
Not knowing his playing could cause fright.
Arriving at Carnegie Hall,
Thinking that he would have a ball,
Bush opened the doors
And walked down a floor.
"Today I will defintly amaze all!"
Casually walking up to the stage,
(And almost causing an outrage)
Bush picked up his fiddle
And acting bashful,
Played til he was kicked offstage.
The critics from hell were there,
They told him his viola couldn't compare.
"What?" Bush had exclaimed,
As he felt ashamed,
This was just too much for him to bear.
Bush wanted to sink into a burrow,
Or shrink in to zip, zip zero.
"Look on the bright side," he said.
I should be glad,
That my violin wasnt actually a cello!
Now everyone, go make sure your violin is really a violin and not a violia.
Re: Bush's viola and the critical attacks,
Many music critics are quacks.
Pianists Truman and Nixon
Could party and mix in,
And Clinton played the sax.
And in the war between violins and violas,
Let this thought console us:
They may have a lower C,
But we have an upper E,
So don't let the violas control us.
But up the A string the viola goes
To our E-string range (if they are pros)
While violinists can’t sing
Without a C-string
In the depths of Bashmet and Primrose.
Yes, Fiona, I see your point,
Great violists we surely annoint.
You may have me up a tree,
But if you're asking me
To switch my allegiance, I woin't.
Now Sander, please don’t get me wrong
A violinist I’ve been all along
But I’m increasingly attached
To a sixteen-inch bratsche
That I bought for just more than a song.
Fiona, I admire your spunk.
That the viola stinks is of course bunk
It's really a mystery
Why it has a bad history.
To investigate, let's get Adrian Monk.
[[[NOTE: At the very beginning of Beethoven 5th,
After the famous 1st 4 notes, and its echo,
Da-da-da-daaaaaaaaa…..
Da-da-da-daaaaaaaaa….
The next lines fit perfectly in limerick rhythm.
Check this out:]]]
Beethoven’s Fifth, those first four notes, da da da fate.
After what follows (which is its echo and its mate).
Is limerick rhythm,
Great limerick rhythm,
So limericks you....shouldn’t....haaaaate.
In keeping with taste and decorum,
On a professional violin forum,
I hope these pages
Will enlighten all ages
Instead of simply to bore'em.
limericks man are sho nuff fine
but somethings preying on my mind
I see some hope
just gimme some rope
don't think me a dope
for pushing the envelope
it's extra wind up for the punch line
now regular limericks are crap
only good for a boring sap
the out of style
can think I'm vile
stay in your sandpile
I toss you in the round file
yo make way for funky limerap
Now, Jim, you may think this limerick blog
Will cause you to sleep like a log,
But you can learn everything
From musical phrasing
To how to change bows at the frog.
And although I like the style of what I see
In the responses you're sending me,
You'll have to admit
It's not elegant a bit,
It's "rap" with a capital "C."
So let's keep up this little chat
(if we have time), and leave it at that.
In the limericks we all compose,
You can't be verbose,
And you have to cut the fat.
I change my frog I change yours too
then I take you back to schoo'
and show you phrasin'
that be hair raisn'
give up you crazy foo'
My goodness, you do sound __issed
(unless there's something I've missed).
-Don't look now, Sandy;
Have a drink or eat some candy.
I think we've just been dissed.
Guys, a true limerick has three accents on lines 1, 2, and 5. There are two on lines 3 and 4, and each beat is subdivided by three...
The shrink is calling himself a we
which is awesome irony
while he scribbles
he channels Sybil's
multiple personality
It's a sign he's exasperated
and feeling thoroughly berated
but I have to say that I'm his fan
that's right guy, I love you man
but just don't say we dated
I feel that this thread has become
merely a forum for some
to argue and fight
o'er who's wrong and who's right
about nothing. You must say that's dumb.
However, the rhyming is clever
and I have enjoyed every letter.
But we've gotten away
and simply can't stay
from the topic of music forever. :)
Dear Jenna, whether it's in 2, 3, or 4,
It's limerick's brevity I adore,
And in this column
Take an art usually solemn,
And keep it from being a bore.
I started this thread on a whim,
To keep all of our thinking in trim,
But with Andrea's reminder,
I hope she knows I'm behind her,
And I'm also a fan of my man (Jim).
As a violin student, Sibyl was trouble.
She sounded like she practiced in rubble.
Her intonation was sour,
Her bowing lacked power,
But, wow, could she play the Bach Double.
Because I sometimes say "we" when I cuss,
Some people don't consider it a plus.
If they ask do I have a maledy
Such as multiple personality,
My response is always, "Who, us?"
Music is a rhythmical art,
That's why you musicians are smart.
For life's beats you listen,
And you hear nature glisten,
Even the lub-dub of your heart.
A composer became quite antsy
When he met a lass very prancy.
They went out on a date,
And he brought her home late,
So she was known as Bruch's Scottish Fancy.
There once was a violinist named Jascha
Who dominated the world like a pasha.
You may not agree
That from him you are free,
But his perfection and style will brainwash ya'.
Some critics eat violinists for dinner,
And call any string player a sinner.
Spew vitriol they may,
But I'm proud to say,
Ich bin ein violinner.
A violin belonging to Midge
Started eating food from the fridge.
While not quite awake,
She had made this mistake:
Have a dentist replace your bridge.
A millionnaire who owned a schooner
Threw a party with a band and a crooner.
But when told by a hand
Of a violinist in the band,
He also hired a harpooner.
Twelve-tone music may be expressible,
But to me it's still inaccessable.
I like it best
During a rest,
And when it's at zero decible.
There was a violinist called Heifetz,
Who said, "I've a weal where my wife hits
My neck - what a lasher!
(Or my name's not Jascha) -
I just say it's the way my white tie fits."
Some violinists fixate on gut,
Others their steel strings strut,
Some have a peg focus
Or a fingerboard locus,
But I know a bow nut nut.
put a halt on every plan
all of them, whether small or grand
It's imminent starvation
for the next generation
Bush picked the new Alan Greenspan
Chorus:
Ohhhhhhh I ain't gotta worry no more no more
I'll lay in bed and snore and snore
nothing gonna work no way no how
All roads go to the poorhouse now
-Chorus copyright 2005, Jim W. Miller, The Smithsonian Collection.
Jim,
Oh, I got plenty o' nothin',
And nothin's plenty for me...
;)
Oh. My. God.
I have never witnessed a thread so zany
Its just a shame everyone else is too lazy
To ryhme with such craft,
But yet it is quite daft
And I think youve all gone a bit Crazy
A violinist is usually a go-getter
(But they don't practice sanity to the letter).
The ones who aren't busted
Look normal and well-adjusted
Until you get to know them better.
I remember a quote from before
by an eminent psychologist of yore
the meaning of normal
is simply formal
As good shrinking, it opens a door
This is the moment I dread --
Defining psychological normalcy instead
Of having fun with rhyme,
Which we do all the time.
It was Ogden Nash who once said....
"Some claim that pianists are human,
And quote the case of Mr. Truman.
Saint-Saens, on the other hand,
Considered them a scurvy band.
'Ape-like they are,' he said, 'and simian,
Instead of normal men and womian.'"
Ogden I think was a silly old hack
Robert Frost, only on crack
I can't explain
Saint-Saens' disdain
but he too had a monkey on his back
With apologies to this thread's greatest poets and violinists! I've really enjoyed all the creativity here, so with love to you both...
There once was a violinist named Miller,
whose limericks surely were killer!
But the piper came by
one day to say "Hi!"
Together they'd play
for the rest of the day,
Until the piper became Jim's biller.
Sandy Marcus is quite the educato'
when it comes to Freud and Plato;
and on Dickinson and Keats
he sure knows his beats
but on the violin, can he hold a bow?
Well, Patty, I'm a psychologist by profession,
But an amateur violinist, I'm confessin'.
OF COURSE I can hold a bow,
But which way I don't know.
And I'll deal with Jim in another session.
I wasn't sure where to post these quoted lines, but as this seems the closest to a poetry thread we have up and running....
Dorothy Parker
ONE PERFECT ROSE
A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet -
One perfect rose.
I knew the language of the floweret;
"My fragile leaves," it said, "his heart enclose."
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.
Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.
What a romantic the lady was!
Patty I don't play violin truth be told
Just a guy reliving his youth who's old
the piper don't worry me
I know his whole family
They're rednecks on my payroll
To put the art of Dorothy Parker
On a limerick thread is a marker
Of poems, while not mod,
That are the art of a god,
Like a Heifetz, Primrose, or Starker.
(And, by the way, I am a Chicagoan who is old enough to have seen Starker many, many times when he was first cellist with the Chicago Symphony under Reiner)
To dissect Dotty Parker in prose
Is Quixotic, and much too verbose.
But to try the same trick
With a hasty limerick
Will poetic impotence expose.
And even her stalwart defender
Is shown as a rhyming pretender
When he can't even get
Lines lined up, much less set
Well-placed accents and rhymes. Just surrender!
Our hero may find the rhapsodical he eschews
for I woke up dis mornin with dem lovesick blues
As I said before
lock the damn door
before there's a strange pair of shoes
Ach, they told me I'd know it
When exposed as not much of a poet.
I tried to be cool,
But Emil I can't fool.
(My folks always said that I'd blow it.)
Your self-deprecating, oh Sandy
Is misguided. Though I'm rather handy
With scansion and rhyme
I hadn't the time
To make my lines, as yours are, dandy.
In short, it's myself I critique
In a manner, we see, too oblique.
If my doggerel you view
As directed at you,
You misread my intent, which was weak.
er...I should add "in any case", but I have to go teach and so haven't the time to rework the second limerick to inlude that, somehow. Um. Take over on the Bram threads, Sandy, ok?
Sandy had a small paranoia attack
Emil wasn't calling him slack
our lovesick elf
was referring to himself
no need to be taken aback
ELF???? When there are perfectly usable rhymes for "himself" like...er...ok. I'll go get the cap with the bobble on it and find a small wooden toy to, in Pratchett's words "hit repeatedly and unconvincingly, yet rhythmically, with a hammer."
And I'm not lovesick thankyouverymuch. I'm feeling rather hale and hearty from it, actually. Then again...she did switch the LSD and the sugar bowls...
No need for a poetry sentry
To cut down an inelegant bent tree.
Of course there's no time
To make perfect rhyme,
And in truth I love every entry.
(for years I've been trying to think of a limerick with elf, self, shelf, and Guelph, but little has come forth...at least anything clean)
Each limerick presents an occasion
To create laughter, and not persuasion.
With no topic taboo,
Any punchline will do.
And to me that's the basic equation.
My goodness, this thread is a dream
Come true, with a limerick theme
It all feels like home
With its Rhyme-chromosome
In a violinistic regime!
PS. Mind if I plug to a orchestral poem of mine?
He easily dodged my poorly thrown hatchet
It's go-getter against a disciple of Pratchett
any lame scoundrel
can pound on an anvil
But you - a hot chick with good acid
This limerick marathon
Is blathering on and on
I hate all the stanzas
They're worse than cadenzas
They go on and on and on.
(I've wanted to say this for a long time.)
notes give access to transcendent notion
honey, the toaster oven is broken
phony biography
cantata for coffee
who wrote this song? That Veiftoken?
--- By Emil -------------
wasn't sure where to post these quoted lines, but as this seems the closest to a poetry thread we have up and running....
Dorothy Parker
ONE PERFECT ROSE
A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet -
One perfect rose.
I knew the language of the floweret;
"My fragile leaves," it said, "his heart enclose."
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.
Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.
What a romantic the lady was!
-------------------------------
Well, this is a limerick thread! Allow me to rewrite it in the correct format:
A rose - how romantic! But, ah!,
I scent his design from afar;
I'm afraid that this weed
Just ain't going to lead
To it yet, till he's bought me a car.
He thought he could bribe me with flowers, the lout
he takes me for some kind of loser, no doubt
one perfect rose
makes me perfectly doze
It's new car - then I put out.
Although there is wit in my arsenal,
Spiritually, I shouldn't take things too parsonal.
In spite of this lapse,
For me it's not "taps."
I'll continue with violin farce 'n all.
We Chicagoans have a proud face,
Cause the White Sox came through in First Place.
To honor that they've won,
I've decided (just for fun)
To switch from Violin to First Bass.
You guys are writing furiously,
But don't take it all too suriously,
When 100 responses have arrived,
This thread will get archived,
So don't bruise your egos injuriously.
There once was a violinist
Who never quit finished...anything she did!
But as she began to musically mature
she knew she'd get that darn Concerto for sure!
________________________________________________
My poem stinks! lol
I like your transcendent limerick, Jim, by the way.
Containing such amazing intellectual innards,
and finger strength to withstand blizzards,
To read such hard staves,
and play fingered octaves,
I salute you my fellow wizards
The was a young fellow called John
Who ventured into writing a song
He found it tough
and he had had enough,
and said #### it it takes too long
Hey, all: I like ALL the entries. This thread is a great place to practice this "art" and see it in black and white. AND, I do believe that when the limerick rhythm and language flexibility gets into your blood, it helps increase the sensitivity to the rhythm in music. Sorry to be serious.
And, Amber, actually you were off to a pretty good start. Write the last line first, with the payoff word at the very end. For example, if you're rhyming with words 'violinist' and 'finished,' what rhymes with those? What occurred to me is 'diminished,' which has multiple meanings. So, how about this for a last line,
"The whole concerto was diminished."
Like in,
"Not only the chords,
But the whole concerto was diminished."
Then think of a first line.
"There once was a young violinist."
Now play with it:
There once was a young violinist,
Who played music that was never quite finished.
To put it in words,
Not only the chords,
But the whole concerto was diminished.
Not a work of art, certainly, but certainly passable and certainly fun to write.
Believe me, if I learned to do it, YOU can do it. It just takes practice, an ear for rhythm, a willingness to play with words, a serviceable rhyming dictionary, and a constant search for double meanings. Simple, huh?
Rhyming dictionary? Cheater.
Absolutely! Cheating is an honorable and noble tradition (under these circumstances, anyway).
Are you familiar with the famous Henny Youngman joke about ethics in business?
You own a dry-cleaning place, and a guy brings in a suit to be cleaned. When he leaves, you find a $100 bill in a pocket. The ethical question is this: Should you tell your partner?
And you know, I'm sure, the famous line by Brahms, when someone reminded him that the main theme of the last movement of the 1st Symphony bore a striking resemblance to Beethoven's "Ode To Joy" theme. Brahms responded something like, "Anyone can see that."
And, by the way, the reason I think that why an otherwise goofy pastime like writing limericks helps in music is because when you begin looking for the potential rhythm in words (which we all use all the time), it simply increases your attention to rhythm more of the time in everyday life, not just when you are making music, so listening for rhythm becomes more second nature.
Hey Sander,
In addition to rythm, I also find that a tune runs through my head when I read a limerick
Bill, me too. There is an overlap, and I believe one helps the other. As I said previously (somewhere in this thread), the tune I hear is the opening of Beethoven's 5th, just after the first two "ta-ta-ta-taaaa"s.
Sandy
ta-ta-ta-taaaaaaa
blah-blah-blah-blaaaaaa
Comparing limericks to Beethovens 5th
Just seems somewhat sick(th)
and must be making him roll over in his grave-aaa
This is a great thread. I'll be sorry when it reaches 100. Sandy, you'll have to start another one!
Judy
Oh, God, I hope not. Yes, it is kind of ludicrous to connect Beethoven's 5th with a limerick, but the rhythm really is there.
Sandy
Henny's deservedly a hero
he was the judeo-comedic Nero
if you were in a pinch
Shecky Green was the mensch
but here a non-limerick earns you zero
A poem for non-lovesick Emil
for him I've discovered a spiel.
Ol' Geoffrey said it best
when he took a little rest
And in the process, turned woe to weal.
---
Since I From Love, by Geoffrey Chaucer
(or not, as the scholars will decide):
SINCE I from Love escaped am so fat,
I ne'er think to be in his prison ta'en;
Since I am free, I count him not a bean.
He may answer, and saye this and that;
I do no force, I speak right as I mean;
Since I from Love escaped am so fat.
Love hath my name struck out of his slat,
And he is struck out of my bookes clean,
For ever more; there is none other mean;
Since I from Love escaped am so fat.
---
For those of a vocal persuasion
There's a song for every occasion
The poem above
was enscribed, with love
in Vaughn-Williams' outrageous composition.
"Merciless Beauty", the cycle is called
To be sung in the very best halls
With strings beside
The tension is high
And the audience may collapse and bawl!
From limericks to poetry this thread is morphing,
With such sweetness as to cause endorphing.
If you add the forces
Of non-limerick discourses,
Is Carmina Burana in the Orffing?
Though attacking icons is a thing we don't fear,
And this thread holds nothing dear,
There's one sacred cow
To whom we all bow --
Henny Youngman's star shines brightest here.
Some of these limericks are o'er riddled with fleas,
And dost not charm the soul (Geez!).
We are amidst a mire
Of doggeral afire,
So do take my limericks, please.
Poor Chausson fell off his bike,
And missed a chance for audiences he'd like.
He didn't get to show'em
Much more than the Poeme.
Perhaps he should have taken a hike.
No matter how much you might long
To avoid pronouncing it wrong,
Some greats had a name
That could make your tongue lame,
Such as the Belgian, Henri Vieuxtemps.
A limerick sparks laughter convulsive,
But some critics seem to find it repulsive.
They demand such a strict norm,
In substance and form,
That they sound obsessive compulsive.
You don't have to be in Mensa
To enjoy a great violin cadenza.
But if you hate these joys,
You'll be visited by one of the boys
(Either Don Corleone or Clemenza).
Today's violinists rock'em sock'em,
And I really don't mean to mock'em.
But it's too bad
There's no CD to be had
To hear a Paganini or Joachim.
Oh, my God, I forgot--
Joachim recorded (not a lot).
He was old and frail,
And his tone was pale.
But that doesn't matter a jot.
The critic crouches in the theater chair,
And throws darts at anyone performing there,
And hears only what's wrong,
Instead of the song.
But criticize the critic? You wouldn't dare.
My favorite description of a critic is by Vonnegut (I think):
"A critic is like a eunuch in a harem. He's there every night, he sees it done every night, he knows how it SHOULD be done every night, but he can't do it himself."
One shouldn't read limericks two whole hours
All these verses just overpowers
Your brain in time
To read every sentence in rhyme
With every non-rhyme it devours
If shudders count, yes--they're convulsive
Limericks to me are repulsive
Only deviants from the norm
Would turn to such form
(I admit, I'm obsessive compulsive)
Ambrose Bierce defined a critic as "a blackguard who sees things as they are, not as they ought to be. Hence the [ancients'] custom of plucking out the cynic's eyes to improve his vision.
O, disdain the poison pen.
You are such talented women and men
That you can play with panache
The most sentimental hash,
And then do it again and again.
Ode to Response Number 100:
As we near the inevitable coda,
The mighty limerick will have reached its quota.
One hundred entries furious
(Some all-knowing, some curious)
I celebrate with a whiskey and soda.
I had more, my best by far
would have turned me into a superstar
but I didn't have it in me
to offend Mrs. Emily
So I just threw away the whole jar
Approaching coda, we shall end maestoso
This bene barocco arioso
Now let's crescendo
And play it con brio
After some glissando imperioso
:)
The following is not a limerick dear,
Nor is it original, I fear.
About violins it's not,
The author's name I don't got,
But somehow, spiritually, it belongs here:
"The hunter crouches in his blind,
'Neath camouflage of every kind,
And conjures up a quacking noise
To lend allure to his decoys.
This grown-up man,
With pluck and luck,
Is hoping to outwit a duck."
Sander's ducking but I know he's near
he's gone bloodthirsty on us now I fear
with his camouflage gowning
and belgian browning
Hey limerick meat's all we need here.
I always wonder when to vibrato
Sparringly and only at crescendo?
Or throughout the whole piece
Every note that is
Played slurred, elegante and legato?
Perhaps I've not always followed the rules,
But be assured, there are no duels --
No secret meanings,
No intended beanings,
Just fun with word-play jewels.
Ah, yes, the vibrato issue.
Get it wrong, the audience will hiss you.
If you have to be choosy,
Make it thick and juicy,
And not as thin as paper tissue.
I have a lot of qualms
About playing anything by Brahms.
My anxiety's mounting
To correctly get the counting,
It's easier to practice psalms.
Liking concertos over opera is what I please.
I suppose opera's nice, but these
Questions keep ringing:
Why do the dying start singing?
And who the devil is Mephistopheles?
Who needs Brahms when there's Schumann
Brahms is Schumann with the flu, man
nothing is hotter
than a Schumann sonata
from a violin chick, Hawaiian tan
Ah! Vibrato all the way it is
I thank ye, Sander, for clearing this
Though to my dismay
It's not so good, I must say
No doubt I need a lot more practice
Veracini's baroque pieces I do fancy
Some gigues, gavottes, maybe even a bourree
It's simply divine
To play in duple time
Nimble fingers moving so lively
Well, I listen to Schumann occasionally
It's currently Rimsky-Korsakov for me
I play and re-play
Everytime, everyday
It's a wonder I've retained my sanity
P-Zan, I too love Veracini and Rimsky
And Schumann (although you'll never see him ski).
I'm not sad if I've missed
Wagner or Liszt
(But it's not really nice to be chinsky).
The composer Prokofiev (Serge),
The classical form did regurge.
You don't have to be Freud
To see I'm overjoyed
That he avoided the Stalinist purge.
Of all the books you've stolen or bought
there's only one you need to have sought
It's availiable from
amazon.com
Smart Violin Method, by Sandy Herrault
If your student's playing is reeking
and his music isnt speaking
drop a dime
while there's time
and make little bigfoot stop shrieking
Emily Grossman's lament
was poetry, limerick-bent
The end had come near
She said, "Lookey here!"
And gleefully filled the last comment.
:)
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October 13, 2005 at 02:07 PM · Just to get us off to a good (or at least adequate) start, here's what's been submitted already (so far, these are all originals):
From me (Sandy Marcus):
The Emperor liked to go ridin',
And his music was good, I'm confidin'.
But he's never returned,
And I've always yearned
To find out if Franz Josef was hidin'.
(.....Haydn?)
On the fiddle we all want to flower,
But it's Heifetz who has all the power.
If considering quitting,
It's much more fitting
To blame it on Leopold Auer.
If the music reviews start to faze you,
The advice that I have will amaze you:
Ignore all the static,
Store your violin in the attic,
And buy a Guarneri del Jesu.
To play the Concerto Tchaikovsky
Demands violin skills like Wieniewski.
You can't be weak,
You need schmaltz plus technique
To play it just good enoughsky.
If you like violin neverending,
A piece with a coda still pending,
Then I'll swear, to the letter,
You can't do any better
Than Vaugh-Williams' "The Lark Ascending."
From Emily Grossman:
Uninsulting? Not at all!
Just look in the bathroom stall:
Poets heckle and rhyme,
"For a really good time,
Give Expletive Harry a call..."
From George Phillips:
There once was a fellow named Paganini
Who loved to do tricks that were cheeky.
With a stroke from his bow,
He started to go,
And suddenly vanished like Houdini.
From Jim Hoyle:
My girlfriend is always a-ruin'
The fact that I play so out of tune;
It's because my old fiddle
Plays flat in the middle,
And I gave that Yehudi Menuhin.
As I look at the listing, I pucker
My lips when I see one more sucker
Is playing yet again
The piece that's the bane
Of my life -- that blasted Max Bruch-er.
There was a violinist called Kogan
Who made it his personal slogan,
Never raise your bow arm
"Cos it's sure to bring harm --
Dann bestimmt is der Bogen geflogen*
(*Translation: The bow's sure to take off)