Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: WINE or WHINE at the end of any one line (Submission Deadline: September 12, 2020)
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 WINE or WHINE 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 DRIVING, using any rhyme word. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best DRIVING-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 September 13, 2020, 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, September 12, 2020 at 4:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my WINE/WHINE-rhyme limerick:
A fellow would often combine
Hard liquor, champagne and red wine,
But he rarely got kicks
From his regular fix…
Though he DID get a box made of pine.
And here’s my DRIVING-themed limerick:
A woman would often lambast
Her husband for driving too fast.
He responded “I drive
Really quick cuz I strive
For an end to the time I’m harassed.”
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: Alcohol Humor, Car Limerick, Champagne Humor, Competition Limerick, Drinking Limerick, Driving Humor, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Liquor Humor, Marriage Humor, Poetry & Prompts, Wine Humor, Writing Prompts
If your job makes you sick, that’s a sign
To find ways to just make you feel fine.
Quit mopin’, quit hopin’
A great way of copin’ –
Just open a bottle of wine!
A constant misspeller would whine
To soothe his dyslexian mind
“It’s hard to explain,
Do I drink or complain?”
Their their, and there both fine
They went to the Lamplight to dine
He claimed that he was feeling fine
But once in the car
He didn’t get far
“Impaired,” the cops said, “by the wine.”
The passenger started to whine
“The scenery here is divine,
But your luggage blocks
My view with that box!”
(The puzzling box was a mine.)
Connoisseurs like to sniff and inspect;
Take a sip, contemplate, then dissect …
“Bloody hell! It’s just wine!
Get the cap off – it’s fine!
Shun the glass, open wide and it’s necked!”
“There are three things in life that are fine.
These are ballads, fast women, and wine.
Of the three, two improve
Over time – Ah, but you’ve …
Yes, the other, of course, is divine.”
At the market we wait for the sign
To come in for TP and wine
We stay six feet apart
As we wipe down a cart,
In the Covid-19 chorus line.
Oenologists fiddle with wine.
They experiment, test and refine.
They envisage; they strive
To perfect – Ooh, such drive!
“I want one o’ them brollies in mine!”
“Is that right, they make brandy from wine?”
“I don’t drink them myself. I incline
Toward whiskey and beer,
So, I’m sorry, I fear,
I must pass and let someone else shine.”
As the sage has most shrewdly opined,
If a woman will think, she will find
That it’s testes and tyres,
Are the root, it transpires,
Of the thoughts that unsettle her mind.
Driving – at a stretch.
I beg for a shag, you decline
I’ll try once again after wine
As you drink Barolo
My hand does it solo
You fancy it now? Give me time!
The chimney sweeps’ jobs aren’t divine,
But rarely, if ever, they whine.
It’s a well-paying trade;
They clean up when they’re paid.
It’s said that their job soots them fine.
“It’s so grand to be here at “Life’s Fine”.
“My darling, select any wine”
“Hubby dear,I must say,
That ev-er y day,
My back,oy,just never feels fine”.
Must confess that my wife is a pain.
And now is the time to complain:
“Take this exit”, says she
When she clearly can see
That I’m driving right in the left lane.
I’ve a right to just holler and shout
And here, my friend, what it’s about:
Ev’ry day in my car,
When I haven’t gone far
My GPS cries, “LET ME OUT !!”
When approaching your woodwork, inhale!
Clasp your maul and position your nail.
Now, tap gently, to start –
Driving mails is an art –
Yes, I have the instructions in Braille.
It was diving us kids to our schools,
Dad developed his, “No Fighting!” rules.
No spitting, no biting,
And NO dynamiting –
Turns out that was important for fools.
I got in my car. It was fine.
The engine then started to whine.
I went two more blocks
Before all those knocks
Made my car sadly go bye-by’n’
Ladies, all! Would you live trouble-free?
Yes, you may – if you’ll listen to me.
Avoid testes and tyres –
Cars breakdown, men are liars.
Take the pledge for a year, and you’ll see.
Sorry!
Sorry, Mad, I’m in tailspin. Would you delete ‘life’ in line one of the above, please. And the entire entry of the first post above it. Thank you.
*******
Done.
A nation so sublime
should not whine
about which party
has bragging rights to its booty
from sea to shining sea is its duty
My life is sure working out fine.
My job is just simply divine.
The boss is real nice;
Always gives good advice.
It’s eight hours a day, nine to wine.
Snobbish oenophiles tend to malign
Two Buck Chuck as inferior wine.
But I must disagree
‘Cause it’s cheap, and to me
It’s as good as the ones they call “fine.”
Back seat drivers drive drivers insane,
And to secretly pray that a train
Will approach and collide
With the passenger’s side
And thus crush their existence’s bane.
This one’s better
Must confess that my wife is a pain.
Don’t believe me? Well, now I’ll explain:
“Take this exit”, said she
When she clearly could see
I was turning right from the left lane
Alfalfa and Spanky were fine.
They’d just shared a liter of wine.
Robert Blake’s older brother
Said, “Buy you another?”
Thus started the Rascals’ decline.
I’m sure it’s in the rules.
If your drive might connect, you shout, “Fore!”
Lest the head of yon stroller be sore.
Though, by rights, he should pay,
As he got in the way;
It’s the gentleman’s right to keep score.
When a wine bottle’s marked with a cross, it
doesn’t mean it’s gone sour, so toss it.
No, it’s simply a wine
clever vintners assign
to a box with a cute little faucet.
Oops! Rhyming Error…..Try Again
“It’s grand to eat here at “Divine”
My darling, please choose the best wine.
“Hubby, dear, I must say
That ev-er-y day
My back, oy, just never feels fine”.
similar
I’ve a right to scream, holler. and shout.
Wanna know what this terror’s about?
Ev’ry day in my car,
When I haven’t gone far
My G.P.S. cries, “LET ME OUT”!!
Flappiness is a boob called Suzanne.
Get your hands on a pair, if you can.
One is good, two is great!
You could share with a mate …
But, more likely, you won’t, my good man.
I’m driving her, Mad.
It was driving us kids to our schools,
Dad developed his, “No Fighting!” rules.
No spitting, no biting,
And NO dynamiting –
That one proved quite important for Jools.
If your drive might connect, you shout, “Fore!”
Lest the head of yon stroller be sore.
Though, by rights, it’s fair play,
As he got in the way;
Let’s a gentleman even the score.
Sorry! I had to put them right.
Cattle drive – well, they used to, not now.
No, the rails changed the world for the cow.
Some still travel by road –
It’s a much smaller load;
Now, the only thing driven is Dow.
“Girls and maps, navigation …” “Don’t whine!
We’ll divorce when we get there, you swine!”
“If we get there, more like!”
“If you doubt, take a hike!
Get out! Go! On your bike! I resign!”
“I’ve never had a valentine,”
He said, to her, “Will you be mine?”
She sized him up
Extended her cup
And said, “Maybe if I have enough wine.’
“In vino veritas.” ‘Truth in wine.’
If you need to stay shtum, toe the line.
Secrets tend to get told
Because wine makes you bold.
Then you’re out in the cold – so decline.
“By the case?” “Oh, yes! Always, with wine –
And especially with those that are fine.”
“You’re au fait with all that,
But they’d soon smell a rat
If I tried to get poncey wiv mine.”
(Poncey is British for pretentious or affected.)
An alcoholic was driving from Stoke
In trying to give his motor more poke
The effect it was dreadful
He’d mixed booze with petrol
And now they’re both pissed and broke
Trump’s already toasting with wine
proclaiming “America mine!
And I didn’t need bots
or genuine thoughts
just my voters brains turned to brine!”
A dude tried to show he had brass
When he mounted a burro. Alas!
He displayed ev’ry sign
That he’d had too much wine.
He fell down. He was drunk off his ass.
“Learn to drive? Oh my gosh, I don’t dare.
And frankly, I simply don’t care”.
“But sweetie, please try.
Practice hard; you’ll get by
Cuz that’s when you learn how to swear.”
For you pleasure, I’ll give you some wine.
You’ll find that it tastes just divine.
If you like it a lot
Please “hush hush” but I’ve got
Lots more cases all hidden, (’bout 9).
Learning to ride a bike
some the training wheels like
but sixty miles per hour down hill in rain
or driving a car two hundred miles per hour in the fast lane
is more of a rush than a ride down the turnpike.
My water bill’s way out of line.
Sends me shivers that run down my spine.
So my new clever phrase
Has won me much praise:
“Don’t drink water, just guzzle down wine”.
Toward Merlot and Bordeaux she’ll incline,
but will drink Chablis pink mixed with Rhine;
Pinot Gri, Chardonnay…
when it’s all put away,
“I want more!” is her favorite whine.
Women, song and wine
Has been a passion of mine.
Now I’m long in the tooth,
Said goodbye to my youth,
So no more singing is fine.
I once had a good friend of mine
Who could turn your water to wine
Give a big pitcher to Jesus
And you could have it with cheeses
Though bathtubs were over the line
My dog likes to run in the rain
But with retractable leash I restrain
When at the end of the line
She gives a sad little whine
Thus restricted, we all would complain
“Is this slop what the posh people drink?”
I believe so. Why? What do you think?”
“It’s that stuff they call wine
And I’d only use mine
To clean toilets or unblock a sink.”
“It’s a fine day, let’s go for a spin!
No, no, no, I shall drive. You get in.
I can see very well …
What’s that, Dear? Bloody Hell!”
“No insurance? Do tell. Next of kin?”
I went out for some drinks with my daughter,
who said, “Mom, you can’t drive if you totter.”
Though I groaned, “Holy Jeez,”
I held onto my keys,
so she turned all my wine into water.
For John, should he drop in.
“An’ what for would Ah want tae drink wine?
It’s nae drink fer a mon. Where’s ma stein?
Gi’ the wine tae ma gal!
I’ll tek heavy, please, pal …
Tha’ was never a goal, ref’, ye swine!”
The grapes ripen well on the vine.
“But the victory oughta be mine!”
Donald screams, and we hope
That for booze and the dope,
It’s the year of a great vintage whine.
From the back, as the dad drives the car,
Comes the whine: “Are we there yet? How far?”
Little Lisa screams: “See?
Tommy’s LOOKING AT ME!”
Says the mom: “Can we stop at that bar?”
Older drivers just bring me to tears;
They think that the road is all theirs.
And not only that,
They wear a dumb hat.
And their blinker’s been on 20 years
I’ve learned how to steer with my knees.
Thus, polish my nails with great ease.
I can chomp on fast food,
Without looking crude.
And basically do as I please.
Sorry Lisi, it’s me
Eyesight failing I got to admit
Got dementia, well only a bit
It’s no use you cursing
I’ll just start reversing
I’m driving and don’t give a shit
She used her sat-nav every day;
Each instruction she’d blindly obey.
But her drive was ill-fated;
The map was outdated –
The bridge had been taken away.
The all important lesson …
“Yes, not quite what we wanted, Ms Kane.
Never mind. We can try it again.
This time, don’t shoot the cop –
should he ask us to stop –
And when tempted to race, please abstain.”
In my garden, this plant is malign.
I curse as I see it entwine;
It ruins my labours
By strangling its neighbours –
It’s bindweed, that vegetable swine!
Driving Lessons – The Saga
“Yes, not quite what we wanted, Ms Kane.
Never mind. We can try it again.
This time, don’t shoot the cop –
Should he ask us to stop –
And when tempted to race, please refrain.”
“No, you mustn’t! He had right of way.
It’s the law, there’s no more I can say.
Yes, he was very rude,
But runover the dude?
You can hardly think that was fair play?”
“I’ve been thinking, Ms Kane, that perhaps
Driving lessons have caused a relapse.
The policeman, for one …
No, please give me the gun,
And let’s quit before one of us snaps.”
Don’t even remember just when
And I never have seen this again.
A notice that said,
“On the road just ahead:
Free brakes, there, so stop if you can”.
Hi Mad! Would you substitute ‘refrain’ for ‘abstain’ in the fifth line of the first verse of the saga above, please. Thank you.
**********
Done.
The tourist in Frankfurt am Main
said “Neun” when he should have said “Nein.”
So a half hour later
the puzzled young waiter
returned with nine bottles of wine.
Cockneys at play.
“It’s like this: ‘e was drivin’ me mad!
I says, ‘You wanna watchit, my lad!’
‘E says, ‘Don’ make me larf!
Shutcher gob! Run me barf!’
So, I plugs in the toaster. My bad.”
These days, driving is no longer fun.
After seventeen months on the run,
Changing cars, sleeping rough,
Takes its toll; though I’m tough,
I’ve about had enough. Yep, I’m done!”
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ …
Yes, a cowboy’s best pal is his horse –
When he’s drivin’ them doggies, of course.
That horse won’t let him down,
But that cowboy, the clown,
Has one thought once in town – ‘Intercourse!’
“Getting older, one tends to refine.
Less is more, if the best, I opine.
Moderation? It, too!
Which is why I eschew
Self-restraint when it comes to fine wine.”
Don’t worry, my dear, he’ll be fine.
Our post-surgical plan’s just divine.
He won’t feel a thing.
Cuz to lessen the sting,
Right into his veins we’ll serve wine.
I can see that you sure don’t feel fine.
But you mustn’t just sit there and pine.
Here’s a hot cup of tea,
So you won’t think ’bout Lee.
And some cheese that goes nice with your whine.
An old wine maker, Mercy Beaucoup,
blended dregs that she found sur la rue.
She said, “When you make wine,
any rotgut is fine,
just as long as you call it ‘Ro-goo.'”
“We make love in the back of your cab?”
“By all means, go ahead, have a stab.
But as part of the fare,
I’m permitted to stare,
And critique if the going gets drab.”
Based on an event that took place when I was a cab driver. (And no, they didn’t. They were just seeing how I’d react. The above is how I reacted – honest!)
“Our ol’ vicar do like his ‘omebrew,
An’ his visions, atween me an’ you,
Comes from testin’ his wine.
‘E still claims they’m divine,
But t’aint nary a one ‘ave come true.”
Pediatric Rules
All Parents, please read this big sign:
“This practice takes kids till they’re 9.
You must pay a small fee,
But there always will be
An extra 5 bucks if they whine.”
Driving Lessons – The Final Step
“It’s a test – just a test. If you fail?
Freedom’s forfeit, you’re straight back to gaol.
Sorry! My bit of fun.
No, you won’t need a gun –
Even though the examiner’s male.”
A five liter box of red wine
Is all that I need to feel fine
To make me feel better
I add one more letter
And try very hard not to whine.
We drive on the left of the road
A choice that the Romans bestowed.
To drive on the right
Could cause a real plight
And a vehicle that has to be towed.
“’It’s oenology, mother,’ ‘e said.
‘That sounds posh,’ I replies, ‘in the shed?’
‘The conditions are fine,
For the making of wine.
I’ve moved father back into his bed.’”
“What to pair? That’s the beauty of wine;
An adventure whenever you dine.
I found hotdogs today,
So I thought, ‘Beaujolais!’”
“Hic! I’d rather have claret with mine.”
Yes, a cowboy’s best pal is his horse –
When he’s drivin’ them doggies, of course.
That horse ne’er lets him down,
But when cowboy hits town,
His one thought – (I’m uptown) – ‘Intercourse!’
“When you’re cooking, be liberal with wine!
A sip here, a sip there – you’ll be fine!
It improveshany dish.
Splashit over the fish –
Be as bold ashyew wish! I reshign!”
Try Something New!
We think it’s completely insane,
And at this point, you’ve nothing to gain.
We all know you’re not fine.
Once again,(oy), you’ll whine.
So try something new, like complain.
Heresy Memo:
“From today the consumers are WRONG!
They have had it their own way too long.
Take no crap. When they whine –
We’re insured, you’ll be fine –
Set about them with cudgel and prong!”
The Ferrari is driven with force.
It’s a car that most experts endorse.
Yet sometimes I ponder
‘Bout the “great wild blue yonder”
And wonder what’s wrong with a horse.
Are mere worker ants creatures divine?
Here’s one antic observed that’s a sign:
back and forth they will traipse
over vines to haul grapes
so both soldiers and queens can have wine.
Those “seniors” who drive are sure slowing
Down traffic, without even knowing.
They insist that they’re clever
Yet most times, however,
They seem to forget where they’re going.
“When they start to perspire, that’s a sign;
Next they’ll fidget and scratch – and they’ll whine.
Then they’ll wheedle and carp,
Which is when something sharp
Comes in handy to keep them in line.”
“They’re not regular people, as such,
So you don’t need to worry too much.
They’ve got one thing in mind,
Donald Trump, reassigned;
I know – crazy! They’re way out of touch.”
NB: I am not taking sides, just depicting the attitude of the maniac’s supporters.
So, if you’re a rabid anti-Trumper, stop foaming – please.
It’s a curious fact: the best wine
Comes from grapes that are picked from the vine
With deep roots in poor soil;
The reward for its toil,
Grapes of character – noble – divine!
I told Charlie, my neighbor, “Don’t shout”
Yet I know what his problem’s about:
His driveway is round;
So he’s always home-bound.
Cuz poor Charlie can never drive out.
a slight modification
I told Charlie, my neighbor, “Don’t shout”
Though I know what his problem’s about:
He is always home-bound;
Cuz his driveway is round.
And poor Charlie can never drive out.
A warning to drinkers: red wine
Could blacken your toenails, like mine.
A whole case of Bordeaux
Got dropped on my toe!
(It was Chateau Margaux ’89.)
[A partly true story – it was a bottle, not a case, and it was Chateau Brane-Cantenac ’96. But my toenail is still black!]
“You can grunt all you want – but don’t whine!
It’s entirely your fault – you’re a swine!
Take your snout from my crops!
Once you’re pork, this all stops –
And we’ll pickle those trotters in brine.”
On the footplate of train number nine,
Driver Thomas asked, “Will you be mine?”
Fireman Bill didn’t know
He was practicing, so,
“This is sudden! Why not? Pass the wine!”
“The pandemic? Who cares? It’s more fun
To go driving my golf-cart”, says Don.
There were golfers before
Him, but we never saw
Such a huge, perfect A-hole in one.
Flushed from her last lover’s fight,
She ordered a scotch whiskey flight.
And with rock music driving,
It should not be surprising,
She didn’t make it home for the night.
True love is not always blind;
Mine’s driving me out of my mind.
You’ll know what I mean
Once you have seen
Her walk down the street from behind.
Some tell me my life will be fine.
All I need is song, women and wine
But my wife left last June
And I sing out of tune,
So just pass me more fruit of the vine.
We drove into town; saw a sign:
It said, “Due to this recent decline,
We must quickly redress
To regain our success,
So our “special” today is MacWine”.
If the glass is “half-full”, that’s divine.
But “half-empty” is not a good sign.
Yet in that same glass,
Not a thing will surpass
The fact that there’s still room for wine.
My husband at age fifty-five
drove his crisis (restored) up our drive.
I cried out with worry —
“A red Plymouth Fury!
Does this mean that ‘Christine’ is ALIVE?!”
Our hazardous mission today
Might be a good reason to pray.
We’ll struggle and strive
With the will to survive
That freeway that runs through L.A.
(A recent road trip)
My son does one-ten on the flats.
He runs red lights and stop signs. His stats:
Seven tickets, two wrecks.
It’s had major effects:
Care to guess where he’s driving me? Bats.
I admit I am strongly averse
To drive with a friend; it’s a curse.
They always hop in,
And it’s truly a sin
When they snatch the seat made for my purse.
OR
I admit I am strongly averse
To drive with a friend; it’s a curse
Cuz when they hop in,
They commit a big sin
By stealing the seat from my purse.
When you’re driving, you auto not peel
Out real fast; torques folks off a good deal.
It is fuelish, you see;
Builds bad car-ma. Don’t be
Biggest nut that’s behind steering wheel.
The neighbors sipped on some red wine
Slepted , then lost track of the time
Woke up to a brawl
And then tried to crawl
Seem like, those drunkers had lost their mind
When I saw Miss Daisy drunk driving
It seems like someone was jiving
She was driving to fast
That she crashed and pass
Giving her chauffeur wealth now he’s thriving
A hiccup if muted is fine,
A belch you don’t hear is benign,
But let’s speak the truth,
A fart’s like vermouth–
An odorous, fortified whine.
“Wine, women, and song.” That sounds fine,
But the ladies all think he’s a swine.
As for singing, he thinks
Vocal music all stinks.
But he does have a surfeit of whine.
For the longest time, drivers held reins.
Of those days, very little remains.
Since the automobile,
Hands drive holding the wheel;
But for many, the Scottish club reigns.
“Ninety-nine-year-old Reginald Fyffe,
What’s your driving ambition in life?”
“To keep living, my dear,
Have more sex, drink more beer –
And I’ll thank you to not tell my wife.”
“Ninety-nine-year-old Reginald Fyffe,
What’s your driving ambition in life?”
“To keep living, my dear,
Have more sex, drink more beer –
And I may even get me a wife.”
I wanted to inject a note of optimism.
The lees …
“Why you’m diggin’ that dirty great ‘ole
In me floor? “Fear not, mother, my goal
Is a cellar – for wine.”
“But the shed?” “It’s still fine –
But the laying down gives the wine soul.”
“’It’s oenology, mother,’ ‘e said.
‘That sounds posh,’ I replies. ‘In the shed?’
‘The conditions are fine,
For the making of wine.
I’ve moved father back into his bed.’”
“Why you’m diggin’ that dirty great ‘ole
In me floor? “Fear not, mother, my goal
Is a cellar – for wine.”
“But the shed?” “It’s still fine –
But the laying down gives the wine soul.”
“I mus’ say, son, you’s done very well.”
“Thank you, mother. Pray, how can you tell?”
“I put some o’ yon brew
In yor father’s lamb stew;
He were like a noo man – for a spell.”
With candlelight, dinner and wine,
The evening was going just fine.
Then, ready for bed,
He realized instead
Her texting was not a good sign.
It’s not that that the music was wrong;
She seemed to enjoy every song.
He thought they would mate
On their very first date;
When “Uh-uh” was there all along.
Try driving while sending a text;
Go places where no one expects.
Erratically steer
And perhaps you may hear
The Grim Reaper say “thank u – next!”
You advertise “What a fine wine!”
But to me the stuff tastes just like brine.
There’s no chance, I would think,
That you’ll drive me to drink.
But don’t whine, the crap’s loved by my swine.
Just keep driving like one of the crazies
In a movie of Martin Scorsese’s.
Excess speeding and drinking?
Bad business, I’m thinking.
Next parking spot? Under the daisies.
“Oh, Robert!” “My darling! Be—” “More wine?”
“What?” “Your glasses are empty.” “We’re fine!”
“Go away! Can’t you see
He’s proposing to me?”
“You’re the third one this week – he’s a swine!”
“Oh, Robert!” “My darling! Be—” “More wine?”
“What?” “Your glasses are empty.” “We’re fine!”
“Go away! Can’t you see
He’s proposing to me?”
“You’re the third one this week – he’s a swine!”
“Oh, Robert?” “I told you I’d—” “You’re Dead!”
“Oh, no! Robert – it’s true – what he said?”
“No, of course it’s not true!
He’s just lying to you;
He wants us to get married instead.”
Tony flashed the poor gal on a dare
Said, “Hey lady! I’ve nothing to wear!”
“Well, don’t stand there and whine!
Buy some pants, you dumb swine!”
Tony failed to design a good scare.
She said, “OH, by the way, you remind
Me to buy baby carrots, and find
Some nice GRAPES in a bag
So I’ll drive in my Jag,
Shop, go home, drink, then nag to unwind!”
When some guy in a fast Lamborghini
Flirts with gals when they wear a bikini
And their eyes see the prize,
He just compensates (tries)
For the little wee size of his weenie.
Student driver examiners choose ’em
Let bad drivers pass tests, and excuse them.
All they do, I believe,
Is act cute and naive
And have lots of nice cleavage and bosom.
In convertible cars, like Ferrari,
Don’t drive through a lion safari.
If you did, then you looked
Like a fish that was hooked –
Might as well be a cooked calamari!
A nice lady from Blaine, Minnesota
Was walking toward North Dakota.
Two cars PULLED to the side
Each had offered a ride –
Limousine, plus a beat-up Toyota.
The three MEN in the limo had eyes
That were creepy; they wore suits and ties.
In the beat-up sedan
Was a gentle old man
She got in, ditched the clan of bad guys.
Well, the ride took her to her mum’s side.
When they got there, she’d already died
And now homeless she was
But he loved her, still does.
In a year, they were husband and bride.
He became her support and best friend
And THAT’S where the story must end.
Kids just don’t make the cut,
(But they might get a mutt).
To write novels ain’t what I intend.
Going off-piste to say, “HI!”
Flappiness is a boob called Suzanne.
Get your hands on a pair, if you can.
One is good, two is great!
You could share with a mate …
But, more likely, you won’t. “Oh, good man!”
“You are noting, I trust, I’ve been good
In your absence – I promised I would.
While you’ve camped under pine,
I’ve been tempted to whine,
But refrained lest I’m not understood.”
“As for flashing – Suzanne! What a thing …
And a poor girl? Not me. I’d chase bling.
If I were – which I’m not –
I’d research someone hot;
A mistake in my planning might sting.”
“What I’m driving at Suze, is, I daren’t!
Our laws over here are deterrent.
And besides, it’s not nice
To suggest that’s my vice
I’ve always been shy – it’s inherent.”
Did my lim’rick say Tony’s last name?
Do I drive you to drink? Did I blame?
Come heaven or hell,
Wish you luck, to excel
In your search for a wealthy hot dame.
A disclaimer? You’re wriggling, Suzanne!
Or perhaps you’re just teasing your man?
I’m not driven to drink,
But I do not dare blink,
Lest I’m caught in some dastardly plan.
Hot and wealthy, Suzanne? Oh, for shame!
I’m not mercenary really. A dame
With a smile and bright eyes –
And voluptous thighs –
With a generous heart, and I’m game.
The Bully serves slop from his Pulpit;
though it’s poison, he knows some will gulp it.
Do I feel asinine
as I sit here and whine
wasting lim’ricks on Trump? I can’t hulp it.
Now you’re being a bit contradictory
And your act is becoming predictory.
Why change lines (as you whine)
Of what makes a dame fine?
So then how will you bind any victory?
Driven?
Ah! At last! The mists clear and I see.
You like bondage, my dear. Silly T!
I am not of that ilk,
But needs must. I choose silk,
And a blindfold – the blindfold’s for me.
Compensatin’ for size ees what drive,
Is assumed; but this syndrome derive
From small hego, not dick –
In most cases – so, Slick,
Lamborghini say, “Hey! I arrive!”
I was moved by your saga – and vexed!
Creepy guys? Guaranteed – over sexed!
Happy ending, that’s fine,
But – and don’t think I whine –
‘To write novels’? That has me perplexed.
When Policewoman Smith came to town,
To arrest handsome barrister Brown,
He took her to dine;
He plied her with wine;
Then he finally laid the law down.
A new motoring mag called “COLLISION”
Aims to help lady drivers envision
What are cars’ vital parts,
So the magazine starts
Next week – with a BUMPER edition.
A man on the bank of the Rhine
Imbibed too freely of wine
He fell and he drowned
His body wasn’t found
His widow when told said “that’s fine”
My car stalled, oh my, how could that be?
It was scary; I know you’ll agree.
Cuz when I looked in my rear,
It surely was clear:
That the whole world had stopped cause of me.
Justice Kav likes his beer. I like wine.
Some may think that’s a sign of decline.
I don’t care what they say;
I can quit any— HEY!
TAKE YOUR MITTS OFF THAT BOTTLE! It’s MINE!
Don’t know why it took such a long while
To travel cross-country with Kyle.
We shared all the driving,
We really were striving.
And switched places ev’ry half mile.
Didn’t know if my engine would last.
Later on, I was simply aghast.
In my hope to restore,
I shoved in one more.
And Boy! did that Chevy go fast.
I was going the orderly speed,
When an officer stopped and decreed:
“I smell pot in your car!
You won’t get real far!”
Then I asked, “Sir, how much do you need?”
“So, another long night at the club!”
“It’s the place to do business – the hub.
It’s more social; we dine,
Test the merits of wine—”
“And play tag with young girls in the tub!”
For the longest time, driving meant reins.
Of those days, very little remains.
Since the automobile,
Hands drive holding the wheel;
But for many, the Scottish club reigns.
“Is that it, Doc’? No chocolate, no wine?”
“And no bread, no red meat – you’ll be fine!
In a year, maybe two,
We’ll run tests and review.”
“Sorry, Doc’, but go screw – I decline!”
The thing about staying in place
Stir-craziness surely you’ll face
You get in the car hopin’
That some place is open
Though the ride, some stress does erase
Wynn the vintner, in secret opined
His grapes are the sensitive kind
“If there’s not enough rain
I just yell and complain”
And the wind of Wynn’s whine went to wine
Inspired by Mad’s limerick about mixed drinks and a pine box:
A Box of Pine Wine ~
Perhaps Pine-Sol wasn’t the cure
though a president told him, “For sure!”
The taste made him whine—
it was not from a vine
but from pinecone, liquor low-couture.
A mean old drunk did opine
“I rarely if ever drink wine,
Cuz once a refined Czech
Who had read his Steinbeck
Said the grapes of wrath were mine.”
While driving, I sure had to smile.
The road signs now have a new style.
And the one I recall
Was the strangest of all:
“One more mile will be just one more mile”
another version
While driving, I sure had to smile.
The road signs now have a new style.
And the one I recall
Was the strangest of all:
“One more mile will just take a short while”.
Delirium? Tremendous!
“Ah! We’re making some progress, I think.
Did you say that the elephant’s pink?”
“Itsh Pinkish.” “Okay fine –
Let me top up your wine;
And don’t worry, there’s plenty to drink.”
The current Limerick-Off ends tomorrow, Saturday, at 4 pm (Eastern time.) So please get your limerick stragglers in.
A Finance and Math major did whine
There are two different types of cosine
One is for angles
The other entangles
Those who sign on the bottom line.
When your very best friend wags his tail
He is trying to tell you his tale.
Pay attention and shine,
Don’t compel him to whine;
He is trying to train you – Don’t Fail!
Said Miss Daisy, “Let’s go somewhere, Hoke;
Take the wheel, for with me, we would croak.
When we get to the woods,
You’ll deliver the goods;
In the back come and give me a poke.”
I took yoga; it sure wasn’t fine.
And wow! did it injure my spine!
“Fallen Triangle Pose”
Injured 5 of my toes.
(Found it much more serene to drink wine).
Mr.Bozo was quite a great star.
His funeral wasn’t too far
The other clowns cried,
Cause their dear friend had died.
All eighteen of them piled in one car.
Was cruising and met a real hottie
She jumped into my Maserati
She was twitching and jumping
I thought primed for humping
But she just had to go to the potty.
Thanks so much everyone for another fun two weeks of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Limerick-Off Award 452. Congratulations to the winners!
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Seat.