Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: CAB at the end of Line 1 or 2 or 5
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 CAB at the end of Line 1 or Line 2 or Line 5. (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 FRUIT, using any rhyme scheme. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best FRUIT-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 Oct 30, 2016, 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, October 29, 2016 at 10:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my limerick:
A garrulous gadfly would gab,
Driving ev’ryone nuts as he’d blab.
People longed to be spared
The critiques that he aired,
En route to their flights in his cab.
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: Cab Humor, Communication Humor, Competition Limerick, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Poetry & Prompts, Speech Humor, Talkativeness, Taxi Limerick, Transportation, Travel Humor, Writing Prompts
From Miss Eve the good fruit wasn’t hidden,
But God told her that it was forbidden.
She just would not believe,
So she soon had to leave.
When God spoke to her, he wasn’t kiddin’!
A driver named Harley McSnabb
said, “No eating fruit in my cab.”
So Dorothy Theel
Tried hiding her peel
And Harley, by stealth, upped her tab.
Said a girl Trump attempted to grab,
“Get your hands off and call me a cab.”
On encircling her waist
with bravado misplaced,
He was floored by her brutal left jab.
A politician with the gift of the gab,
Too rich to have ever travelled by cab,
Got tired of his tower—
So had a shot at real power
And anything else he could grab.
The driver attempted to grab
Every girl who got into his cab.
“Hi, I’m Don”, he would say,
“Bring that pussy this way!”
But he had all the charm of a crab.
(One from the archives …)
She certainly knew what to wear
To induce all the locals to stare.
Law-abiders and felons
Admired her melons,
Though one guy exclaimed “What a pear!”
Drink Chablis if you just want to gab.
Wine and cheese? Try a Riesling. They’re fab.
With Chinese food to go
Nothing beats a Merlot.
But as prelude to love, take a Cab.
If a woman is old or just drab,
Trump will have her sent off in a cab.
But what if she’s hot?
Then he’ll take his best shot,
With a kiss and a gross pussy grab.
When I was a kid, “Fruit and Nut”
Meant a chocolate bar. Yummy! But
Who’d have thought that a fruit,
And a nutcase, to boot,
Might be POTUS of pussy and smut?
In a queue line for getting a cab,
A pimp there so often would blab.
So for his girls in the ghetto,
He had a three inch stiletto!
Not for feet – but the kind that will stab!
To get around I need a cab,
Some drivers were born in Punjab.
Their English, erratic,
Its grasp, problematic,
I’m really not being a crab.
Some guys think it’s OK to grab
Their date, while they’re trapped in a cab.
The gals firmly protest
When guys grab at their breast.
And give the guy’s groin a firm jab.
A guy took a gal in a cab,
And started a quick pussy grab.
Acted like sicko Trump,
What a moronic chump!
His hand bled a lot from her stab.
It seems most guys driving a cab
Come from either Madras or Punjab
Their English is weak.
We’re lost! Please don’t freak!
My bright hopes have turned olive drab.
“There was plenty of fruit she could garner,”
Said God, “But my apple? Goshdarn her!
It was not hers to munch –
I had kept it for lunch!
Why couldn’t she peel a banana?”
A Redneck did kidnap and grab,
a young woman he’d long “plan’d ta nab.”
But she lept’ from his truck
Like a,“mere’ wounded” buck.
Cuz’ his dogs were up front in the cab.
An old priest would oft sit and he’d stare,
At some melons, peach, banana and pear;
“It sure does perplex.
That I’m reminded of sex”
Quipped the nun, “You haven’t a prayer!”
A peach once grew tired of her fuzz,
And decided to give it a buzz.
Once she shaved off her mane
She grabbed a plantain
Just to see how it does what it does.
“I can’t go to the ball, I’m so drab!”
“Don’t worry, dear – Abracadab!”
With a soft, swishing sound
Cinderella was gowned,
And the pumpkin had turned to a cab.
Gary Johnson is still ‘out to lunch’.
“World leaders? Well, I’ve got a hunch
That there’s one that I know,
Name beginning with O . . .”
Yes, he’s several grapes short of a bunch.
Banging away in an old junk yard cab,
with a hooker named Sophie McNabb,
was sex unprotected,
and I’m now quite dejected,
with a case of the clap and some crabs!
FRUIT (from an alumnus of Carnegie MELLON)
Her folks, at the end of their rope,
Planning nuptials, they barely could cope
When their daughter, instead,
Tried to run off to wed.
Their solution: We’ll serve cantaloupe.
“Watch out! Donald’s trying to grab
Our privates. Let’s call for a cab,”
Said Milly to Sally
At Trump’s silly rally.
His prospects turn bleaker than drab.
The other day I took a cab
On my way to do a rehab
Hip hip hooray
It’s demo day
Oy, I hope it comes out just fab
A weird little man from Tonasket
Would talk to the fruit in a basket.
He told me one day
“I can hear what they say;
If you have any question, I’ll ask it.”
“OK, what’s it like to be tucked
In a bin and then being trucked?”
My query transmitted,
They quickly admitted
In unison: “Man, we are plucked!”
We’re drowning in blather and blab
From his mouth that’s renowned for its flab.
This election now feels
Like a nightmare on wheels;
With Frankenstein driving the cab.
I’m phoning to order a cab
That can carry me home with my flab.
In a bid to get slim
I just ran to the gym,
Now I’m sore in each quad, glute and ab.
Would I like the Merlot or the Cab
With my entree of lobster and crab?
No, a nice Pinot Gris
Will suit small-handed me,
In a wineglass not too wide to grab.
On too many a cold marble slab
In a med school anatomy lab
With a tag on its toes
Lies another of those
Who chose not to go home in a cab.
Halloween is so often a drab
But this year I’ll make use of my flab
For since I am plumper
From bumper to bumper
I’m going to go as a cab.
But if you’re expecting a ride
Too bad; your request is denied
Though I may take your fare
We won’t go anywhere
For I only let candy inside.
My uncle’s as daft as a coot;
My Ma has the brain of a newt;
My cousin’s doolally,
And so is Aunt Sally;
My grandmother chews a cheroot.
My brother’s a half-witted brute,
And my Pa is convinced he’s Canute.
In our family tree,
I’m afraid there’s just me
Who is neither a nut nor a fruit.
(Not for the squeamish …)
The girl that he’d had in his cab
Was a stunner … but what was this scab
That was itching? He scratched it,
But when he detached it,
It ran! He’d been given a crab!
He’d ripped off the Mafia big-time;
A truckload of lemons, his crime.
“Seems ya like citrus fruit”,
Said the Godfather. “Cute!
So we’re dumpin’ ya body in lime.”
(Another one from the archives …)
William Tell was re-stringing his bow;
He had missed the damned apple, and so
He now aimed for the head,
Shot his little son dead,
And won gold at the archery show.
Dr F. had created a CAB
(That’s a Coal-Aided Brain) in his lab,
But the fumes and the smoke
Caused his Monster to choke,
So it ended up dead on the slab.
Said the doctor to Barney McNabb,
“Your results have come back from the lab…
Your ataxia’s worse.”
Barney turned to the nurse:
“Did the doctor just call me a cab?”
(basically just echoing Tim, and others…)
“I’m drunk,” muttered Rita to Mab,
“You should probably get me a cab.”
Mab, pouring more wine,
Said, “A Cab would be fine,
But this Chardonnay, honey, is fab!”
The girl was alone in the cab,
And he thought “Here’s some pussy to grab!”
But she knew what to do –
Where he used to have two,
They’re now sewing one back in the lab.
Do they really call ‘Cabernet’ ‘Cab’?
And is ‘Chablis’ contracted to ‘Chab’?
I just hope there’s no Malt
In their bibulous vault,
Or they’ll start calling ‘Aberlour’ ‘Ab’.
Pretending to fly in his cab,
Harry Chapin could no longer nab
That society girl
From a previous whirl;
A token is all he could grab.
A kumquat, he thinks, must be hot,
For it sounds like a pussy-grab spot.
But that girl-groping turd
Is confusing the word
With a mixture of “quim” and of “twat”.
There once was a man from Durango
Who stole fruit while doing the tango.
With fruit in his pants,
A mirror caught his glance–
And he was impressed with his mango.
Donald Trump has confessed: “It was me
Who cut down the old cherry-tree.
When the orchard went bust,
Well, I did what I must,
And I filed for a great bankruptcy.
The workers were sacked, yes sirree!
But don’t worry, there’s plenty for me.
Even now, as I speak,
With a pussy so sleek,
A sweet cherry is sat on my knee.”
A Memorable Long Ago Production of Pittsburgh’s Civic Light Opera
(With condensed plot to make it fit into a limerick)
As Sportin’ Life, Calloway (Cab),
Was a drug dealer gifted with Gab.
He tells Catfish Row
Bible stories ain’t so.
And Crown’s killed by Porgy’s swift stab.
Being famous is getting quite drab
For each time I must flag down a cab
Paparazzi give chase
So I know I must race
To a good hiding place – in rehab!
Worked all day at the chemistry lab
Going home – I could not start my Saab
My poor car needed gas
So I farted – alas!
Then it started! I’ll pass on the cab.
I’ve achieved quite the lengthy vocab
All my words are flamboyant, not drab
But most people just gawk
Think their ears have a block
‘Cause they stare like I’m talking Punjab.
Halloween is a blast, a real hoot
But instead of the candy, give fruit
If the brats don’t like that
Then I hope they get fat
And their bowels poop scat in their suit!
Whatever you feed to your guts
May come out of your poopworthy butts
But you are what you eat
So you ought to retreat
From all fruit and bananas and nuts.
A lady all covered in flab
Was so big, like the size of a cab
For a woman so sizable
A diet’s advisable
If realizable, fab!
A big storm was the cause of his fright
He sought comfort in dim candlelight
Then the thunder went “Boom!”
And his Fruit of the Loom
Had met up with its doom that dark night.
The wife-beating, wife-cheating scab
Went to visit his mistress by cab
But when he got there
He encountered a bear
In the form of her husband; just fab!
His banana was stuck in his pocket
While her cherry was stuck in its socket
With their thoughts now defiled
Stripped their clothes off and smiled
Hormones shot up real wild, like a rocket.
Hey trucker! Up there in your cab!
There’s this hooker whose service is fab.
She brings with her a tube
Full of Brylcreem, for lube.
She’ll do ya, with just a li’l dab.
Out in public the guy was a brute,
And his legions of fans followed suit.
Grabbing [privates]? That’s lewd.
Though I hate to waste food,
One response crossed my mind: throwing fruit.
~PART 2~ (an anagram of my first limerick and also a limerick)
Officials are on a big quest –
We men find a stooge thats the best.
Ditch inhibition for prattle,
or when he fought her huge battle,
Nail a blond killer put to the test!
The old witch had become such a crab,
and her mode of transit so drab.
So with a pinch of the eye of newt,
stirred in with some hemlock root,
she abracadabbed her broom for a cab!!
I’ll make money. How hard could it be
To grow fruit upon many a tree?
So an orchard I bought,
But the profits were naught.
‘Twas a fruitless endeavor for me.
While Brady was eating his lunch,
He grabbed several grapes he could munch.
They were held by their stem,
So he said about them,
“These are known as the Brady Bunch.”
At the store, they are giving for free
Some dried grapes ’cause they hope you’ll agree
That you learned that the treat
Is real good, can’t be beat.
They are raisin awareness, you see.
A strawberry’s caught in a scam
That ends with a flattening — Wham!
To get canned in preserves
Isn’t what it deserves.
It simply got caught in a jam.
I’ve seen it all driving a cab,
Found bras, false teeth, and one Lab!
I once drove a cop
Who told me to stop
At a bar, and she’d pick up the tab!!!!
Don’t mean to blab,
But this prompt was fab.
Here’s where I went with it:
Got a Grip – A Limericked Ode on Honor Bestowed
Frankly Speaking ~
I’ve postponed all attempts to rhyme “cab,”
For I’ve been called away by Queen Mab.
Each October, you see,
Foments madness in me,
And hunched Igor awaits in my lab.
The World’s First Picnic ~
The first lunch that Eve ever made
Was fried chicken and fruit marmalade,
But then Adam’s eye
Spied a breast and a thigh:
‘twas the finest buffet ever laid.
(Disclaimer: I may have shared this previously under another subject.)
Fruit + Cab equals this:
There are many red wines which are fab
But outnumbered by those that are drab.
Picking fruit of the vine
Connoisseur Madeline
Says to opt for a dry Napa Cab.
I once fell sick in a cab,
taking my dog to the vets lab.
By mistake the old vet,
gave me a shot meant for my pet.
Now I have ticks, fleas and mange with huge scabs!
The old drunk with his incessant blab,
accidentally set fire to the cab.
Later, beside a heap of smouldering metal,
said the cabbie, rightfully nettled,
“Nice try, but you’ll still pay your tab!”
“When Bill’s in the back of a cab
He’s looking for pussy to grab,”
Accuses the Trumpster.
(Campaign’s in the dumpster,
So all he can do is just blab.)
Now I’m sorry to be such a crab.
This lousy campaign is just flab.
With his pants all afire,
Calling each lass a liar,
Trump declares, “Look at her. She’s so drab.”
I suppose he’s just taking a stab.
Using tactics just like Al Shebab,
He and Bannon, those churls,
Think they’ll round up the girls
And convince them The Donald is fab.
My uncle (st.) Nick from Montana,
each year donned his suit and played Santa.
But when a drought left few nuts and no fruit,
somehow a chimney snag offed his suit,
and he slid ‘cross the hearth with nuts and banana!
He poured her a very nice Cab,
But she didn’t drink any, or gab.
And the sex later flopped:
When he poked her, she popped.
It’s no fun when the gal is pre-fab.
Inspired by James Marks’ 10/24 Limerick:
Get in Gear ~
My cabrolet’s running drab:
Needs some fuel like we had in the cab.
Not that viney-fruit stuff,
But some powdery fluff
Which would prove I don’t drive a prefab.
Please delete limerick Oct. 21, 7:49pm old tom bass
sent wrong one! sorry, thanks ….th
From MBK: Done.
Cherimoya and Damson and Jambul
And the Salak may seem like a gamble
There’s the Longan, the Nance
Go ahead, take a chance
But you’re wondering, why do I ramble?
The Satsuma will cleanse, not pollute
And the Yuzu, which smells nice, to boot
All these, plus Rambutan
Don’t have any gluten
For each of these words is a fruit!
The best apples, when making a pie
Are Granny Smith, Spartan, and Spy
But the kind to avoid
Turns to mush; I’m annoyed
Red Delicious is guilty; don’t try!
I learned from the tribe of the Maya
The right way to eat a papaya
Jump on till it’s flat
And the damn thing goes, “Splat!”
Then yell, “Jiminy Jack Jeremiah!”
I just cannot sit still or be placid
And my tummy could use an antacid
I have got to abstain
Eating citrus fruit plain
‘Cause the damn things contain too much acid!
Got no calls on his Blackberry phone
And was with his banana alone
So with no honeydew
He was feeling plum blue
Pear of balls cantaloupe with his bone.
This one may or may not be acceptable to some, but by golly, it’s got the word “fruit” in there somewhere!
With the splendid ideas I keep dishin’
I just don’t have a lot of ambition
I can’t get the job done
If it stops being fun
So they never do come to fruition.
I hailed cab after cab after cab
Not one stopped, and not one could I grab
When I stripped off my clothes
There were seventeen rows
Of them willing to pick up the tab.
A passenger started to stab
The poor driver of one yellow cab
But a cop car behind them
Was lucky to find them
A nut that the good cop could nab.
Some priest had a gift of the gab
The parishioners thought he was fab
Till they saw him deceive
With a trick up his sleeve
Then they told him to leave in a cab.
When the drunk threw up all over the cab,
the puke reeked distinkly of crab.
“What’n hell did you eat?” gagged the cabbie.
“Dunno,” he slurred, mighta been fat Tabby,
cudn’t see for all o’ that flab!”
Rufe Lopes, with new wife LeeAnna,
grew melons just south of Atlanta.
Now for love of this fruit of the rind,
one in particular I might remind,
they named their first daughter Canta!
This ‘apple a day,’ so extolled,
seems to be quite true, so I’m told.
But if a bite of this treat,
brings a slight taste of meat,
would you rather see half worm or whole?
A man went to market in Spain
Purporting to buy a plaintain
Pinching a grape
Led a hasty escape
Exiting the town on the train.
Drinking shot after shot on Don’s tab
I suggested we get us a cab
“Awww…shcrew you, you punk!
You shay I’m too drunk?!”
Well he was – now he’s dead on a slab.
I’ll ride to the polls in a cab,
not to vote, just to keep tabs.
But when one’s declared winner,
secret saint or blatant sinner,
know that sores are just baby scabs!
I’ll ride to the polls in a cab,
not to vote but to keep tabs.
And if it be Hillary or ‘the Donald,’
or even Rosie O’Donnell,
I know that sores soon become scabs!
Thanks so much everyone for another fun two weeks of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Congratulations to our Limerick-Off Award Winner, the FRUIT-Themed Limerick Winner, and to the Honorable Mention winners: Limerick-Off Award 264.
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Call.