Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: RACE or ERASE at the end of any one line
It’s Limerick-Off time, once again. And that means I write a limerick, and you write your own, using the same rhyme word. Then you post your limerick(s) as a comment to this post and, if you’re a Facebook user, on Facebook too.
I hope you’ll join me in writing limericks using RACE or ERASE at the end of any one line. (Homonyms or homophones are fine.)
The best submission will be crowned Limerick-Off Award Winner. (Here’s last week’s Limerick-Off Award Winner.)
Additionally, you may write themed limericks related to CONDUCTORS, using any rhyme word. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best CONDUCTOR-related limerick.
How will your poems be judged? By meter, rhyme, cleverness, and humor. (If you’re feeling a bit fuzzy about limerick writing rules, here’s my How To Write A Limerick article.)
I’ll announce the winners on March 24, 2019 right before I post the next Limerick-Off. So that gives you two full weeks to submit your clever, polished verse. Your submission deadline is Saturday, March 23, 2019 at 10:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my limerick:
Though his conduct has been a disgrace,
He’s reformed and he hopes to erase
His transgressions from searches,
Cuz Google besmirches;
He’s harmed by each truth-telling trace.
And here’s my conductor limerick:
When audience members still cheer
A conductor whose meter’s unclear
And whose gestures and cues
Mislead and confuse,
Count on this: He looks cute from the rear.
Please feel free to enter my Limerick-Off by posting your limerick(s) in my comments. And if you’re on Facebook, I hope you’ll join my friends in that same activity on my Facebook Limerick-Off post.
To receive an email alert whenever I post a new Limerick-Off, please email Madkane@MadKane.com Subject: MadKane’s Newsletter. Thanks!
Tags: Classical Music Humor, Competition Limerick, Conductor Limerick, Conductors Humor, Google, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Music Humor & Verse, Music Limerick, Poetry & Prompts, Reputation, Search Engines, Writing Prompts
Donald Trump! Who can fail to remember
The horror we felt that November?
I would say “A disgrace
To the whole human race”,
Except that he isn’t a member.
(Five from the archives)
He thought he was winning the race.
“C’mon, baby, let’s cut to the chase.
Just blow me, OK?”
But she told him “No way!”
It was mace that she blew – in his face.
The conductor was taking a bow
When it seemed that he farted, and how!
The second trombone
Had unwittingly blown
A bum note. He is unemployed now.
The conductor exclaimed “Vot ze heck!
You, ze violin in ze last deck –
Your playing is poor, Jack;
Zis scraping make Dvořák
Sound ’orribly like a dud Czech.”
Though she wanted to play the trombone,
All her blowing produced was a groan.
Still, she managed to land
A good job in the band
On the day the conductor was blown.
The conductor examined the score:
“Very pretty, but what is it for?
I just wiggle my stick;
How to end is the trick –
When the orchestra stops, there’s no more.”
He’s cheating! Oh what a disgrace!
Forget about fixing your face!
This gal’s 21
(same age as your son)
Leave that schmuck. DO NOT enter the race!
“That flautist!” recalled the conductor.
“She was hot, and I tried to instruct her
In ‘playing the flute’,
But my flute had gone mute,
So, regrettably, I never … what’s the phrase I’m looking for?”
From the back, barely covered in lace,
She was fine, I was up for a race.
She turned corners, I followed.
As I neared her, I swallowed.
She’s a man, and not one I’d embrace.
You’re writing a “love note” to Grace
It says, “I just crave your embrace”
Here comes teacher, Miss Sneak
Now you panic and freak
Flip that pencil around and erase!
2020, we hope, will erase
Every trace of Trump’s criminal ways.
Let this monster obscene
Be entirely unseen,
Except, maybe, on visiting days.
The director of our Philharmonic
Conducts scherzos at such supersonic
Speeds that the fellows
Who play oboes and chellos
Have rebelled and gone straight monotonic.
Should the Orange One end up in first place
In the next presidential race
Or be tossed in the clink?
Yikes–we’re nearing the brink
Of a war between Blue and The Base.
Is it safe to go out, are you sure?
Maestro, there’s storm on the moor!
At the end of his hike
He survived lightning strike
Because his conducting was poor
The performance today was a bummer.
The tympani marched to their own drummer.
The conductor was mad,
More raging than sad,
Should have listened to his mom, been a plumber.
All thought this would be a boring race,
Here’s what happened- I’ll cut to the chase:
The tortoise beat the hare.
Perseverance! So there!
The likely isn’t always the case.
He was a mere English instructor,
On the carpet, became a conductor.
A quite shocking find,
Her response was quite kind.
But not funny when he tried to fuck her.
In the midst of the marathon throng,
I was told that I didn’t belong
By a cop at the race.
He said, “You’re out of place
And I think you should just run along.”
I just couldn’t keep up the pace
And felt like a total disgrace
But now with my “Scooter”
(controlled by computer!)
I have won the “Zoom Zoom Biddy Race”
A railway conductor named Jack
Was surely not given some slack
His train of thought dropped
The passengers flopped
And stumbled along the wrong track
Mrs. Franklin told Ben that “It’s frightening,
To see you fly kites when it’s lightning”
He then replied
Don’t think I’ll be fried
Conducting this test is enlightening
A railway conductor named Bruce
Was fired for drinkin’ fake “juice”
He pounced on a girl
And gave her a whirl
Cause she had a real cutsie caboose
The human life is a race.
A fundamental chase.
Some people are a disgrace they yell loud right in your face.
The good people must set the pace.
They must send the others up into space.
If that was the case, what would be the base, no one ever would remain chaste.
Being kind would be a waste.
Sometimes we erase the taste of joy.
Joy should be as soft as lace, not stinging like so much mace
Joy is a boy with a car for a toy, or bow wrapped girl who is coy.
We sit, we shudder, we lift, run, we hitch a ride so right a thumb.
A conductor is a traveler, who teaches to play the game of trucks,cars and trains.
A conductor is a reducer he shortens the time to make way for every possible rhyme.
He never leaves you with the taste of slime, his words are never sublime.
When we go he always know. We run skip and implore.
Before we step out of the door, we hear a sound and hit the floor.
Never stop to hear rhyming lore, because you know that we want more.
Merrily, merrily, we hearken to breath not with even a slight reprieve.
Mistakes are bliss if you correct them right. Past the day and through the night.
Heroes are just and villains are wrong, they though lose while we sing this song.
Those who come cannot be mistaken, for to love is never faking.
Not here not there never to hide, tears we fear and bandages bind.
Back and forth, round and round, past the sound.
Through every mighty city and village town.
Stop to hear us as we pound the dull dark and sullen ground.
To guess our intentions to never mention.
Needs no explanation, mind constipation. Frank attention to a question.
Spoken belief is hard. Go to a play with a leotard.
Magic, wonder, power myth heaven is hopeful bliss.
Blithe is nearer to hate than love.
Treasured like a gentle dove.
A misty ran will take away all the pain.
Nothing more can travel year. Though we rhyme past the year.
Winter to summer is a lame bummer. To know is to go and to show.
Hitting the ropes is an antidote. I would never lie if I try.
As to grab a victory gab.
Red,White,and Blue to face anew.
To gobble down an edible stew.
Who lifts up higher than you.
Who grabs the peak of the mountain.
To have no doubt whence we tear.
Maybe the battle lines are drawn here.
To cherish to grip the castle in the sky.
I’ll never ever forget the chase here I stand and here I race.
Lest we forget to strike with the hammer, to never go or to yammer.
The conductor is not a word but a phrase to be heard lets go and see
What time is to be. To show good face is to always race.
The hills they shine with a roaring pantomime.
Times are as bitter a lime.
There is no reason to mime.
Anything that we spot, lays onto eternal rot.
Springtime flowers, love thee showers.
That quenches them to ancient history.
Past vaults that quake. That humor bakes.
Stiffens resistance. To pause an instant.
Ah, serenity, peace in a blindfold, two-fold comfort.
Uncouth truth, is truth nonetheless.
How we cater to our animal like nature.
must we nurture longing.
Do not debase the race. Do not put a sour face on it.
Do not quit for if you do. You shall think less of you.
The middle, the middle. The end the end.
Part where you can never find a friend.
To meddle not with cheaters.
We end the meters of trust.
We find the money bust.
Is it you or is it just us.
Past the years. The beer.
We fall, might hit ground if any one else can hear the sound.
The mountains in the distance reminds me of your eyes.
How they tear up together in stormy weather.
I can barely hear the sound your feet makes as they hit the floor.
Do you cater or do you throw shade
Upon this glade how it wavers.
Do you believe it is just us.
Could there be more out there.
How do you let the dogs of war off the leash.
Touch, breath, listen crouch.
All the bats are coming out.
To leer and the man.
The hiss at the door.
They crave more.
I can barely attest.
If you decide to wear your dress.
Carry more to pace, I end the timely race.
The human life is a race.
The greatest conductors, (it’s said)
Are the ones who seem very well-bred
We’re just so impressed
With those who are best
And in fact, they are now also dead
For materials recently polled
The top were silver and gold
To conduct current flow
Resistance is best low
(even less when the metal is cold)
A conductor’s job I had attained
On the railroad, but someone complained.
The next day I was fired
And cannot be rehired.
My boss said that I wasn’t well trained.
A Matter of Geography ~
My rhyming went into a daze
when I learned how the Brits say erase:
I rhyme it with race—
That’s because of the place
I was born is the North of the A’s.
“Cross-Country Calamity”
A crisp October girls’ race day, kept pace
A girl and I ran on wrong trail, lost place
Then, she took off, came in first
Thought this girls’ race was the worst
Face plant in mud, third, photo can’t erase !
Not A Duplicate:
The greatest conductors, (It’s said)
Are the ones who seem very well-bred
We’re all so impressed
With the ones who are best
As a matter of fact, they’re all dead
The train conductor was full of such dread
Smug cow chewing her cud on tracks ahead
He blew the whistle loudly
She mooed, then began to pee
Mornings like this ,he wished he stayed in bed !
The conductor’s notes so neatly propped
On the lectern just suddenly dropped
The flutist with dread
Was in shock cause it said:
“Wave your arms until music has stopped”
Remembering when Mad and Mark posted the video of the dog who strolled into the symphony
The conductor was clever and quick
This master did not miss a trick
But the dog at his side
Just kept barking and tried
To get him to throw that damn stick
School sports day, mum’s egg and spoon race
She was all set to clinch first place
‘Til she slipped on the grass
Falling flat on her arse
Ended up with egg on her face.
Annual sports day was taking place
She was favourite to win the race
How she felt such a fool
When watched by the whole school
She tripped and fell flat on her face.
I went to the “Symphony Forum”
The speaker (with perfect decorum)
Explained “The conductor
Is NOT your instructor
So keep up the beat and ignore ’em”
“It’s time that we cut to the chase,”
Said the lad in a sweaty embrace.
“Your body’s so supple.
I can’t wait to couple.”
She replied, “Wait! This isn’t a race.”
Minor revision:
“It’s time that we cut to the chase,”
Said the lad in a sweaty embrace.
“Your body’s so supple.
I’m eager to couple.”
She replied, “Wait! This isn’t a race.”
At last, she said “Come up to my place”
Then my pulse just started to race
Though the sex was okay
I said “I’ll not stay
‘Cause the best part of this was the chase”
The lady conductor was loose
An easy lay one could deduce
So I played on my hunch
That my ticket she’d punch
If I flattered her ample caboose.
I see Mark Kane and I are thinking along similar lines…
He was awed by her body and face,
So he went with her, back to her place,
Where he found out that “she”
Was hung better than he.
That’s an image he’d like to erase.
I always try hard to erase
The mem’ry of living with Grace
In this nice roomy house
My maddening spouse
Was simply a big waste of space
The way you behave is appalling.
In fact, I find it quite galling.
You conduct yourself
With mannered ill health
Your membership here we’ll be calling
My screen has gone on the blink.
It might be a soldering link,
Or semi-conductor gone klunk,
(More Chinese junk…),
Or maybe too warm an heat-sink?
The train guard was sentenced to die.
In the electric chair he would fry.
They three times threw the switch
But each time was a hitch,
The bad conductor made things go awry.
It seems the whole human race
Will simply vanish without trace.
The cooling and storming
From global warming
Will all of us simply erase.
“Max Factor”
In the fifties, I loved Anna’s face
(So full of such beauty and grace)
Though her sister Marie
Confided in me
That she hid all her zits with “Erase”
An electron felt most uninspired.
‘I’m drunk and most awfully tired.’
‘I don’t want to race’
‘Round and round at this pace.’
He was negative ‘cos he was wired.
At Oxford, they’re setting their store in
An eight who were more used to whorin’
The team, a disgrace
Catch crabs every race
They get them by sticking their oar in
From last night I’ve got a bad head
But we boozers are easily led
That last drinking race
Left us both ‘off our face’
Are you sweating or have I pissed the bed?
On the train, something wasn’t okay!
The conductor had harsh words to say:
“This job I could shove
Cause I’m so tired of
My working all damn live long day!”
The conductor seemed very forlorn
And told me, “Today I am torn:
“Though this job is first-rate
Today ain’t so great
Cause Dinah just won’t blow my horn”
“The Crucial Need For A Seasoned Maestro”
The people were all at the show
The conductor was still not below
Yet the play was a hit
Cause down in the pit
Was “Replacement Sub Janitor Joe”
Minor Revision
“The Crucial Need For A Seasoned Maestro”
The people were all at the show
The conductor was still not below
Yet the play was a hit
Cause down in the pit
Was “Replacement Guy Janitor Joe”
For cancer-type cells to erase,
I have been exposed for some days
To radio rays,
Which have clever ways
Of rounding up any such strays!
Trump, the bigoted fool,
Who uses division to rule;
Were he to embrace
The whole human race,
He’d make “America Cool”
Donald Trump, were he to say
“Often we don’t know the way,
But we’ll work to erase
Our differences base
And together we’ll greet a new day”.
Bloody Computers
Silver I’m told by a whiz
Is the best conductor there is.
But then I am told
Instead they use gold…
Costs more (and goes with a fizz).
“Conductor” was in great disfavor!
Our feelings could not have been graver!
He heard us all say:
“Look who’s coming our way
It’s “William the weird wacky waver”
Our conductor’s got one” heart of lead”
Now listen to just what he said:
“There isn’t one reason
For absence this season
Unless you’re most certainly dead”
I’m working on all of the rests
I’ve won many musical “tests”
Here comes the conductor
A.K.A. “The Destructor”
(These naps are just what he detests)
I’m thinking of writing these tomes:
For building things, “Bucky’s Great Domes”;
For Quantum Mechanics,
“Why Schrödinger Panics”;
For conductors, “There’s No Law Like Ohm’s.
“Expertise” and a “vase” and “erase”
Where a “zee” sound with “ess” you replace.
And a Brit will rhyme “solder”
With “colder”, not “order”
And “buoy” with “boy” in this case!
Conductance was measured in Mhos
A name the boffins oppose
Those S and I demons
Now call them Siemens
The reason for changing? f*** knows!
I simply cannot run this “race”
My colleagues show much faster “pace”
‘Tween leaks and alignment
I do my assignment
That French Horn is one pissy bass
We forecast the poll, twenty-twenty:
Trump little, the Democrat plenty.
We’d like to erase
That smug smile from his face
And don’t want to ease him out gently.
You know, once my poor bod
Became a lightning rod?
But my thick soles of rubber
And being fat, full of blubber,
Saved my poor arse, thanks to God.
Alternate ending…
You know once my poor bod
Became a lightning rod?
But my thick soles of rubber
And being fat, full of blubber,
Saved me being dead in the sod.
R. Buckminster (Bucky) Fuller
Bucky is, was a godsend.
His thinking “Bucking” the trend.
First you erase
The populist base,
Then see where your thinking will wend.
If you always use what you’re taught
Ideas new will be nought.
It’s not a race
For leaving a trace
Will have your thinking be fraught.
Using nature as an instructor;
Natural rhythms a conductor;
Nature does share
That things aren’t square,
But is a triangulated constructor.
At one time so greatly admired
Conductor Van Yawn had been fired!
Each performance had gaps
Cause he took many naps
And all his concertos were tired.
My number of interviews grows
For a maestro who has the right pose
I’m feeling so glum
Cause I just can’t find one
With a snobby irate upturned nose.
My horse said, “I can’t even “place”
“And that Jim is truly the case!
“See, I’m on a strict diet
Which works when I try it
So feed me “fast food” then I’ll race.
An ancient conductor named Tim
(Not me) met that Reaper most Grim.
He was well past his prime
Up on stage, beating time,
Till today, when time fin’lly beat him.
– by Tim Apple James (the “Apple” is soft)
“How It All Started”
“I feel that this chap is quite thick
Our dialogue sure didn’t click
He can’t play a note
He’s as dumb as a goat
I say let’s just give him a stick”
At the Proms, we’re herded like cattle
To watch the great conducting battle
All showing much flair
But who had best hair,
Was it Ozawa, Nowak or Rattle?
A one ‘an a two ‘an a “rest”
That’s my way to remember it best!
I got it just right
And even in spite
Of the maestro who missed it and messed.
Oh how I wish I could erase
Those laughter lines from my face
They’re getting bolder
As I’m getting older
A fact I don’t want to embrace
Hare to tortoise ‘Let’s cut to the chase,
You’ve no hope of winning this race.’
But he was fated to lose
When he stopped for a snooze
And ended up with egg on his face
School sports day, we’re up for the chase
Both athletes with refinement and grace
Showing poise, self possession
At times there’s aggression
Such a waste in the three legged race
There are many cliches about race
I suppose that they all have their place
Some “types” have what counts
In abundant amounts
Which sounds like a real worthy chase
When the demagogue entered the race
Scary changes began to take place.
People took great delight
Showing hatred and spite,
Meeting two definitions of “base.”
Minor Revision L5
There are many cliches about race
I suppose that they all have their place
Some “types” have what counts
In abundant amounts
Which sounds like real worthwhile chase
These auditions are getting absurd!
I still haven’t heard just one word
From a man who conducts
Then completely erupts
And whose hair flies around like a bird
In the famous hymn ‘Amazing Grace’,
The choir got ahead of the pace.
The conductor yelled “Hey!
We’ll do it my way.
This is a hymn; not a race.”
The conductor stepped onto the stand.
A lady said, “Isn’t he grand!
He looks pretty slick
With his cute little stick.
And he waves it in time with the band”.
I remember those school holidays,
Getting lost in the Hampton Court Maze.
The tour conductor
Was a poor instructor.
It’s a memory I cannot erase.
The Maestro’s young inamorato
Was a bass who liked sex scatenato.
By the time they had finished,
The bass had diminished;
He was singing soprano sfogato.
It’s a memory I cannot erase
Getting lost in the Hampton Court Maze.
Escape was denied
When our Guide sighed, and died.
We drank our own urine for days.
The maestro just downright exploded!
When all of a sudden he noted:
A terrible glitch
All the horns were off-pitch
(It seems that the basses were loaded!)
To a ‘cellist, a maestro from Datchet
Said, “This is the tempo – please match it!
Your instrument lies
Between your two thighs;
And you just seem to sit there and scratch it.”
Not A Duplicate
There are many cliches about race
But is it a fact in this case?
Do some “types” have what counts
In abundant amounts?
If so, it’s a real worthwhile chase!
“Please daughter, dear, hurry (just race!!)
Don’t be late for that dreamy embrace
Take your comb and your brush
I know he’ll just gush
Most importantly, don’t forget mace”
“Conductors” and “Erase”
Conductors are born to keep pace
For the flutes, violins and the bass
The musicians behold
A skill that’s pure gold
One which timelessness cannot erase.
Mad: darn it! I meant to say, can you change “For which timelessness will not erase” TO “One which timelessness cannot erase”
(sorry)
Lisi
**********
Done.
The Northern Mexican city of Juarez;
Is a desirable target for Ocasio Cortez;
“Tear down that place,”
“Go Green” is the race,
A model for USA cities she says.u
Migrants living in filth is a grace;
Americans should live in such space;
Despite poorer health,
She’ll destroy ugly wealth,
Her privileged childhood she wants to erase.
There’s a difference between wealth and greed;
Understanding this is against Cortez creed;
Greed is for only one, a disgrace,
To get wealth for everyone we should race,
But the Cortez creed is to mislead indeed.
Centuries of progress she wants to erase;
A Green New Deal this will replace;
From cars to airplanes,
Cow farts to trains,
She delivers this BS with a straight face.
Only love AOC says to embrace;
But it’s with hate she wants to replace;
Socialists to protect,
From the politically incorrect,
And your constitutional rights she will gladly erase.
FDR, Reagan, Clinton, Barrack;
When it comes to policy she can clean their clock;
Knowledge of history she has not a trace,
But she sure knows how to use the “ism” of race,
Her historical fantasy is truly a crock.
Of garbage, America is only ten percent better;
She arrogantly thinks she’s a policy pacesetter;
Her own genius she’ll proudly embrace,
At 29 for top Dem she will race,
If successful, shades of Venezuela will get her.
As a senior, I just can’t keep pace
I’ll remember a name,not a face
Then at times it’s reversed
So I think I am cursed
‘Twas a time I was part of the race.
The conductor announced with great poise
“Our audience truly enjoys
The way that I lead
So we really don’t need
Any instruments, (can’t stand the noise)
Trump claims to have great poker face,
but ask him ’bout religion or race.
With Muslims he’ll stumble.
White Nationalists? Fumble!
His cards fly all over the place.
Why do we say, “Yes that’s right”.
Or, “No, I think that is trite”?
The wrong we efface,
And from mind do erase,
But that doesn’t mean that we’re bright.
Thinking about more than his putts
And taking no ands, ifs nor buts,
Sat down face-to-face,
Stopped this stupid Arms Race…
But then that would take guts.
The conductor was one angry chap!
He was fired in less than a snap
Just felt so disgraced
He was being replaced
By the new “Maestro Surrogate App”
A fast rabbit entered a race
But the finish line, it was erased
He ran more and more
Crashed in to a door
Disappeared, leaving no trace
So many have entered the race;
It’s hard to remember their face.
The winner’s first week
In the office they seek:
Evicting our nation’s disgrace.
Imagine that we could erase
The twenty-sixteen Great Disgrace.
We’d first undo Brexit,
So no one respects it.
Then let Hillary sit in Trump’s place.
It all will come true before long:
Automatons lead us in song,
Conductor-less trains
Run by silicon brains,
Theirs nary a thing two go rong.
Our maestro is one real “humdinger”
He moves to and fro; does not linger
And instead of a stick
This real nasty prick
Directs us by “giving a finger”
When I entered ‘The Marathon Race”
I was certain I’d keep up the pace
But I got so off-track
Couldn’t find my way back
For the next one, I’ll just run in place.
(TRUE)
As a teacher, I’d always erase
With such force, I did not leave a trace!
But now I’m retired
My gig has expired
And the pension I sure do embrace
another version, also true
As a teacher, I used to erase
With such force, I did not leave a trace!
I got so full of dust
That my clothes all got mussed
Not to mention the mess on my face
When conducting his toe tapping suite.
The Spooner group dancing was neat
There were some bad reviews
‘Cos they wore the wrong shoes
They were comfy and bucked up the feet
Sorry Mad, too many feet in above, could you change line one to ‘toe tapping’
*********
Done. I also assumed you must have meant “suite.” So I changed suit to suite.
Yes, thank you, blame ‘old timer’s disease!
******
LOL! I’ll bet I’m older than you are. :)
The oaf with the bright orange face
Intends to set race against race
A white national agenda,
This serial offender
Shows any remorse? not a trace
In Paris, the composer king
Stravinsky, was conducting ‘his thing’
When a crash of tympani
Produced a finale
That caused The Riot of Spring
There was a conductor named James
Who delighted in musical games
But the audience soon
Said no to his tune
And his harsh unmelodic refrains.
She was young, she was lithe, full of grace
As she lined up for her big race.
She tripped along well
But the champion fell
She won. The old champ now in last place.
I was enjoying a musical thrill
Adding an end-of-line trill,
Till the conductor said, “Honey,
You’ve lost all your money
To pay for your trill frill thrill bill”.
As a bitter ailing curmudgeon
Any opposing views I will bludgeon.
The whole human race,
I’ll shit on its face,
As I lambaste with my verbal truncheon.
The conductor said everyone on,
The cost is only a dong.
I said I’ve plenty of bling
And lots of ka-ching
But I’ve got no dong in my thong.
Is taking a wash with E-Rays.
Is a product I’d like to praise.
The electron hot shower
Wields such cleansing power
That it lasts for a week or ten days.
Copy/paste error in the above and a different end.
Taking a wash with E-Rays.
Is a product I’d like to praise.
The electron hot shower
Wields such cleansing power
Its effect, you’ll agree, will amaze.
correction of rhyming error:
My number of interviews grows
For a maestro who shows the right pose
I’m feeling so glum
Cause no one’s yet come
With a snobby irate upturned nose
(better)
My number of interviews grows
For a maestro who shows the right pose
I’m feeling so sad
I just can’t find one lad
With a snobby irate upturned nose
Conductor McFlighty’s young beau
Was a cellist who loved her. Uh-oh!
One dawn, the sad fellow
Woke alone; and his cello
Had no strings attached. What a blow!
That Irish conductor’s INSANE!
Claims “Musicians just don’t have a brain”
So he hums “Too-A-Loo-Al”
And has learned that it sure ‘il
Just calm him and tune out the pain
The current Limerick-Off ends tomorrow, Saturday, at 10 pm (Eastern time.) So please get your limerick stragglers in.
Two pencils set off on erase
Looking sharp as they scratched out a pace
The number one led
Then the two got ahead
But it was a draw for first place.
The conductor said, “Please follow me
Now musicians, you must stay on key!
So try not to miss
It goes just like this:
A one an a two an a three”
Another “slightly” different version
The conductor said, “Please follow me
Now musicians, you must stay on key!
So stay on your toes
And remember it goes:
A one an a two an a three”
My husband, he sullenly frowned
At my happy and joyful sweet sound.
He said, “I’ll erase
That smile from your face
By putting you deep in the ground”.
Oops: did not get the right words to “Too-Ra-Loo-Ral
That Irish conductor’s INSANE!
Claims “Musicians just don’t have a brain!”
So he hums “Too-Ra-Loo-Ral”
And he says that “it sure ‘il
Just “calm him and tune out the pain”
Oh how I wish we could all embrace
Each other’s teligion and race
No discrimination
Or segregation
The world would be a much bettet place
“E-Books”
When I found a great tip on “E-RASE”
My computer, I sure did embrace!
It’s called “Get Rid Of Spouse
Cause He’s Really A Louse”
“Here’s directions; you won’t leave a trace”
Conductors are truly elite!
How I love a great symphony suite
I’ve seen so many flicks
Where the maestro just “ticks”
And that Mickey Mouse sure can’t be beat!
a minor revision
“E-Books”
My computer I sure did embrace
When I found a great tip on “E-Rase”
Called “Get Rid Of Spouse”
“Cause He’s Really A Louse”
“Here’s directions that won’t leave a trace”
“erase” and “conductor”
In my mind I must simply erase
A moment of total disgrace!
The conductor went nuts
With that stick (what a putz)
And smacked himself right in the face!
I’m in love with a dashing young fellow
Who plays an enormous red cello.
When he picks up the pace,
My heart starts to race.
And I swoon when his touch becomes mellow.
The folks on the train gaped and stared
When the chief touch the lights and they flared
They asked, all excited,
How he got them lighted.
“A conductor conducts,” he declared.
Thanks so much everyone for another fun two weeks of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Limerick-Off Award 318. Congratulations to the winners!
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Grown.