Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: Locks or Lox or Lochs or Lawks at the end of any one line (Submission Deadline: January 30, 2021)
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 Locks or Lox or Lochs or Lawks 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 Instruments, using any rhyme word. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best Instruments-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 January 31, 2021, 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, January 30, 2021 at 4:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my Locks/Lox/Lochs/Lawks-rhyme limerick:
“See that gal over there? What a fox!”
Said a man of a woman whose locks
Were curly and long
And worthy of song.
But the rest of her? More like an ox.
And here’s my Instruments-themed limerick:
A musician I know plays the lute,
And her husband is gifted on flute.
They duet ev’ry day
On their instruments. Hey!
Your mind OUT of the gutter, you brute!
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: Battle of the Sexes, Bawdy Humor, Competition Limerick, Flute, Flute Humor, Flute Limerick, Fox Humor, Instrumentalists, Instruments, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Lute, Lute Humor, Lute Limerick, Marriage Humor, Music Humor & Verse, Music Limericks, Musical Instruments, Musician Humor, Ox Humor, Poetry & Prompts, Writing Prompts
Mary Lawks visits Scottish Lakes’ docks
Hides smoked salmon all wrapped up in socks.
They’d be put in a box
Padlocked tight, sunk with rocks
Mrs. Lawks locks the lox in the lochs.
(couldn’t resist… I saw all four words, and they seemed to speak to each other and they all jumped in line to come up with this, lol)
My cousin in Ireland rocks!
All the boys used to call her “the fox”
Yeah! She’s back in New York!
Fine’ly left County Cork!
Couldn’t wait to have boxty and lox.
Last winter I went to Aruba
to paddleboard, snorkel, and scuba.
When I got to the place
I’d brought the wrong case!
I had to breathe air through my tuba.
My snorkeling tuba gave pause
to the other beach-goers because
when I came up for air
the sound said “Beware!”
It played the theme music from “Jaws”.
Our temple’s new cantor, Veronica,
was installed on the first night of Chanukah.
We sang “Ma’oz tzur”
but I made for the door
when she led “Bar’chu” on harmonica.
My guinea pig learned to play cello!
He can play “He’s a jolly good fellow.”
I give him rewards
when he hits the right chords;
his favorite’s pineapple jello.
My musical taste is quite fickle
And mostly I don’t give a pickle
Beethoven and Bach
Aren’t my sort of lark
I just play the juke box with a nickel
I went on a trip to Bangkok
And received a most terrible shock
These intruders each night
Had me quaking in fright
All because the front door had no lock.
In Scotland I lived near the lochs
But I never enjoyed eating lox
My mum said “Lawks-a-mussy
You really are fussy
Off to your room and make sure the door locks”.
We’ve put up with the President’s trumpet.
We were glad when the time came to dump it.
Now we’re Biden our time
For no instruments rhyme
And the White House must just learn to lump it!
Crusaders:
The wife of Sir John Thomas Knox
Shed a tear when he left for the docks
He’d left a belt round her waist
For keeping her chaste
But the knaves were picking the locks
I’ve taken my dog for a treat
To the restaurant where I often eat.
I order, and they
Lead my doggie away;
I suppose it’s to give him some meat.
They bring me my lunch in a box,
But inside, I see something that shocks.
“You have roasted my dog!”
And the waiter, agog,
Says “I thought you said ‘Beagle with lox’.”
A Scotsman who played on the fife
I’ll remember the rest of my life
For under his kilt
He was very well built
Which quite often caused him some strife.
The choice of their horns did nettle
The marchers, who had to settle
For some tubas to blow
At the half-time show;
While marching, they played “heavy metal.”
Brass players who’ve drunk enough beer
Can make sounds like a raucous Bronx cheer.
Let’s hire some to play
And send Trump on his way
When the Glorious Twentieth’s here
Louis Armstrong was clearly a treat!
With that trumpet, “Ole Satch” kept the beat.
This musician, (so great)
Sure carried his weight.
And we listened to him with our feet.
true story, but a bit embellished for the limerick….1962: My nice Irish Catholic boyfriend had his first taste of “belly lox”, which is even stronger and saltier than Nova. (He still remembers this experience)
“The lox in my kitchen”
“Is this the stuff people call lox?”
“It IS, Pete, the flavor sure rocks”
He took a small bite,
Then went into flight.
And still goes for electrical shocks.
To my “Shrink Doc” I finally said:
“There are so many tears I have shed.
I tried the bass drum,
But it still didn’t numb
That annoying, weird voice in my head”.
I have some bad news, and it shocks.
The delis are selling fake lox.
And I’m telling you
This has to be true,
Because I just got it from Fox.
It’s hard to find a good surgical nurse these days!
“Please bring in the instruments, Faye.
This stone must come out right away”
She came back with a flute
And an unfretted lute.
It seems she brought in the wrong tray.
Mad: above limerick…..line three: Could you please change “She brought in a flute” to….She came back with a flute
Thank you,
Lisi
****
Done.
I have learned, through the school of hard knocks,
That protecting my bagels with lox
Is not efficacious–
‘Cause others, rapacious,
Still grab them away, much like hawks.
The tools that proctologist’s use
Are like shoe horns with clamps, prongs, and screws.
But when ‘rhoids get to raging
They need some assuaging.
Submit, then—or suffer. You choose!
The surgeon was clever and smart.
His instruments: “State Of The Art”
Yet the procedure went wrong.
Though the patient was strong,
Seems the man known as Trump had no heart.
Some hobbies I feel I do well in.
But music’s the thing I excel in.
When mom comes home from work,
She never will smirk.
She knows I will say, “I’m just cellin”
I love my antique-store barometer
Combined with a handy thermometer.
Three instruments, all
In one place on the wall;
The third one, of course, a hygrometer.
My bell rings, then somebody knocks
On my door. I unlock all the locks –
No-one’s there any more!
Just to open the door
Took me seventeen minutes, approx.
With his predatory grin like a croc’s,
And that toupée with yellowing locks,
His face twisted with fury,
He won’t charm the jury
When up in the court witness-box.
Trump’s lackeys are backing up trucks
and Lincoln has gone in a box.
In addition to screening
the White House for cleaning
now Biden will have to change locks.
“Since this tambourine chafes at my thumb,”
Said young Starkey, “I guess I’ll just hum.”
But the kid would go far,
And when grown be a Starr,
Once he ended up snaring a drum.
Said a globe-trotting fellow named Cox:
“I love Norway and Scotland! Each rocks!
Norway’s better. It’s true
That the Scots are great too,
But I pine for the fjords…not the lochs.”
I purchased a box without locks
A good place to keep all my stocks
I hid it right here
It did disappear
And now I can’t even buy socks!
I needed to color my locks
I chose a new hue from a box
My hair did turn green!
Can’t let it be seen!
I guess I’ll crawl under some rocks.
A neighbor would practice her oboe
Late at night ’til the cocks would crow
So beautiful I’d weep
But, I needed my sleep
So I scared her to bed with my banjo.
A fisherman down by the locks
Kept all his fish in a box
At the end of the day
To his dismay
His catch had been stole by a fox.
The band plays music that rocks
The singer is a gorgeous fox
With horns that wail
Up and down every scale
Guaranteed to knock off your socks.
A gal whose big eyes said “Come Hither”
Was frightfully skilled on the zither.
With that message despatched
There were no strings attached
So she’d “go” them but not take them with ‘er
Mad Kane is renowned for her oboe
And I play a pretty good banjo
If we got together
We could play “Stormy Weather”
Like a volcano ready to blow.
Apologies Mad, couldn’t resist .
Colonoscopies here are sure nice.
Our instrument’s quite a device.
Right into the tube,
We always infuse
A fresh and real sweet pumpkin spice.
I thought, ‘Spending a day in the stocks
Might be fun.’ I was wrong! As the locks
Were clicked shut, some cod roes
Hit me square on the nose.
Take my tip! Don’t offend near the docks.
I was billed as, ‘This slip of a lad.’
(Yes, you’ve guessed, he who slipped was my dad.)
Though a skilled man with locks,
He had no heart for shocks,
‘And keeled over,’ so mum says, ‘the cad!’
Hello! I’m the janitor, Mike.
Your surgeon right now is on strike.
Do not worry, my friend.
Pull your pants down and bend.
I’ll remove all your piles with this spike.
As one raised in the school of hard knocks,
I’ve acquired certain skills picking locks.
Moral compass awry,
I’ve found ways to get by,
And my pleasures at Madame Hickok’s.
Whoa, there, Lisi! desist with that spike!
I appeal on behalf of poor Mike.
Piles, it’s true, are no fun,
Butt – yes, I know it’s a pun –
On behalf of us all – Take A Hike!
I cache all of my cookies in crocks;
I stash scones in a box labeled “socks.”
My sweet buns are hidden,
In places forbidden,
And I fortify bagels with locks.
Write in haste, revise at leisure …
Whoa, there, Lisi! Desist with that spike!
I appeal on behalf of poor Mike.
Piles, it’s true, are no fun,
Butt – I know it’s a pun –
On behalf of us all, ‘Take A Hike!’
Now Tony, I sure did guffaw
At that comment you need to withdraw.
I will not take a hike.
Our dear Mike used a spike
Cause he just couldn’t locate his saw.
Oh, impetuous fool! Get it right!
Mike’s the janitor probing the plight.
That aside, stay his hand!
Just the thought – I’m unmanned.
I imagine he thinks he’s a knight.
Don’t worry Tony, I’m thinkin’ of a good one for you, but now I must proceed with something I just thought of
In my lifetime, I seen many “docs’.
E.g. colds, aching feet, chicken pox.
With not one single cure,
I am Fine-ally sure
That the only corrective is lox.
Mad: I dont’ say ”I seen”……(line one above limerick) I say, of course, I’ve seen. That was an “oops” sorry
Probing Mike, will, I think, know the score,
And won’t make any moves with the saw.
No, his elbow may jerk.
He’ll need more room to work,
And that won’t be forthcoming, I’m sure.
For Tony
That patient has put 50 locks
On his tush, which he’s covered with socks.
He has moved far away
To a flat in Bombay.
And gets weekly electrical shocks.
For Lisi …
Can you blame him, poor chap. But Bombay?
That’s a terribly long way away.
Yet, with Mike on his trail –
Gimlet eye on his tail –
I expect he’s extending his stay.
I can’t seem to get this thing right!
Is the reason because I’m not bright?
I hear booing and hissing.
Are bagpipes the missing
Weird link between loud sound and sight?
The electrical shocks? Not for piles?
No, of course not. (Occasion for smiles.)
But that means it’s for shock –
Michael running amok.
All of which surely adds to his trials.
Scotsmen who swim in the lochs
Have a condition worse than the pox;
With not enough heat
To thaw out their meat,
They’re coping with flash-frozen cocks.
I love you, my sweet darling, Gretel.
Please marry me, so we can settle.
I too, like “Black Rose”
Go to nightmarish shows.
And my tuba is real heavy metal.
She ordered some bagels with lox
The bagels were harder than rocks
She bit into one
But wasn’t yet done
Her dentist sent bills that were shocks.
For Tony
Since Mike had to suffer with locks,
He stood firm on Bombay for his shocks.
Cuz in their IV
Which is known as “Esprit”
They insert Vodka Gimlet On Rocks.
Cornish fishermen do it in smocks –
Though a few of them much prefer frocks.
Either way, it gets done.
Deep-sea fishing’s no fun,
So, at weekends they play on the Lochs.
For Lisi
Vodka G? Epidural for shocks.
That will teach him to tamper with locks.
Tell them, ‘Hold the Esprit’ –
I, myself, prefer tea –
And the barman they won’t need the rocks.
For Lisi – Mike: A Hero For Our Times
In the annals of lancing, ‘Sir’ Mike,
Armed with only his thrusting steel spike,
Brought relief to male rears,
Relief mingled with fears,
For they never knew when he would strike.
Purr… hiss… a cat on the prowl
Finds humans sadistic ghouls!
Why poach such fragrant fish,
In cream, a most delicious dish,
And yet if a cat steals it call her
most foul?
I felt I was just on the brink.
I shed tears and I cried to my shrink:
“My piccolo shows
Have come to a close,
Cause they’re driving the doggies to drink”
She labored on pieces for flute
The pain in her fingers…acute
She squeaked and she tooted
But everyone hooted
“That’s music?”, the question is moot.
I just revised the limerick I submitted on Jan 19th. Could you possibly delete that and enter this (think) improved version.
Than you.
There once was a man from Bolzano*
A genius at playing the piano
He used just one hand
On his baby grand
And mastered it mano a mano
*Bolzano, Italy, where I was born. I don’t play the piano.
**********
From Mad Kane: Done.
He quickly ordered a red lox
But instead got a red fox
He sent his plate back
Chef calls him a jack
Cuz, his fish was really a lox
He twindled with his brass flute
Which tossed him out of his boot
The symbols kicked his ass
Then called him third class
He thought the flute was a brut
Will Donald Trump fall on his sword as
Joe issues executive orders?
These instruments, signed,
Will inflame Donald’s mind –
Let us hope he’s restrained by his warders.
The crew were enjoying their frolics,
Applying their oars in the rowlocks,
Till one of the team
Let out a loud scream –
The poor fellow had sat on his bollocks!
We formed an official committee.
This guy was disturbing the city.
He played the kazoo,
Which made us all blue.
We put him in jail, (what a pity)
We formed yet another committee.
This girl was disturbing the city.
The cowbells she played.
It made us afraid.
We put her in jail, (what a pity)
A composer just lost it one day;
Now his music is hellish to play.
The percussion’s a roar,
Overwhelming the score.
It’s a cymbal of mental decay.
The triangle’s real hard to play.
I practiced it ev-er-y day.
But I failed in geometry,
And trigonometry.
The procedure just led me astray.
If you want to be sly like a fox,
Here’s a prank that I think really rocks.
Find somebody’s bike.
Any one that you like.
And fasten your lock to his locks.
OR
If you want to be sly like a fox,
Here’s a prank that I think really rocks:
Find somebody’s bike.
Any bike that you like.
And lock up the locks with your locks.
No one gets to be great in this life –
I’m discounting the ambitious wife –
Without banging his drum
Till the moment has come,
To bring in the horn – not the fife.
Mad, would you be so kind as to add the ‘t’ to make ‘the’ instead of ‘he’ in line five above. Thnk you.
*******
Done.
I have visions of Lisi let loose
On a world unsuspecting – no truce!
Faced with multiple locks,
Cyclists reel from the shocks.
Naughty antics, Ms Fox. “It’s abuse!”
Addendum to Lisi let loose:
You might say they’ll get over the shocks.
That it does them no harm to pick locks.
If you don’t like my wheeze,
Well, tough luck and hard cheese!
Coming next! I’ll be toying with jocks.
As a kid Clara played clarinet
With such passion she’d work up a sweat.
“Ode to Joy” she did toot
While the boys would all hoot.
Did she know the word ‘phallic’? Not yet.
“Viola Lessons”
I thought I was moving and grooving.
But “teach” said, “You’re sure not improving.
I can’t stand that creaking,
And maddening squeaking,
So please tell your bow to stop moving!”
My friend, who’s a cool refined Brit,
Never curses, not even a bit.
When life deals him hard knocks
He exclaims only “Lawks!”
As for me, though, I just go with “Shit!”
We’re done with the lies and the mocks
We’re tired of the fake news from Fox
The Donald is out
And now we can shout
Our Potus is springing the locks!
the instrument of the maestro
The maestro, you’ll notice is raised
On the podium, where he is praised.
Up there on his stand
He will stately command
The ensemble which sits there and prays.
Nimble fingers will pick their guitars –
In some cases, their long-necked sitars.
Those of criminal mind
Will pick pockets – unkind! –
And the rake works his magic with bras.
instrument of love
I’ve an instrument, utterly great.
If you touch it, you’ll be my best date.
So please take my hand.
You’ll see something that’s grand.
And voila! Guaranteed to inflate.
Mad: this is better ……..L5 And voila! Guaranteed to inflate.
L5 limerick above.
Could you please change that for me?
Thank you, Lisi
********
done.
Our bagel shop drew in the flocks
But our marriage was still on the rocks.
If the judge lets her choose
then our business we’ll lose.
She’ll decide that she’s changing the lox.
Luigi sinks into a swoon
Upon hearing a classical tune;
Especially the Scherzo
From the Triple Concerto
For Two Hoboes and Double Buffoon.
The US Marine Band does pass
As musicians of near world class.
When you earn the first chair,
a general does declare
“You are now the top brass’ top brass”
Though the US Marine Band can’t pass
As muscians of near world class.
If you earn the first chair
A general will declare
“You are now the top brass’ top brass”
A composer in French Polynesia
Relies on his strong synesthesia.
“Each time I see yellow
I write for the cello.
It just couldn’t be any easi-ah!
“For example, the color maroon
to me sounds just like a bassoon.
Each color I see
is a new symphony!
I wrote three, and it’s not even Noon.”
Instruments Of Torture
“Your first time on the rack? Have no fear!
We’re all very professional here.
Bill’s the expert in front –
Always pays to be blunt –
And I, modestly, bring up the rear.”
“Now, let’s see. This should loosen your tongue.
Let you hang for a bit from this rung.
Bill’s just warming his tongs,
And his three-pointed prongs.
I do hope you’re not too highly strung.”
“A confession! So soon! Oh, for shame!
My dear chap! That’s not playing the game.
Can’t you wait for a bit?
Bill is having a fit,
And it looks as though I’ll get the blame.”
Sorry, Mad. Please do delete the tfirst two posts above. Thank you.
*******
Done.
Pro-nunciation, it’s true,
‘Twixt us and the States can construe
Problems. Like ‘lochs’
Which do not sound like ‘rocks’
But the first part of ‘och aye the noo’.
Claustrophics are unorthodox,
And their mindset is one that unlocks
Creativity, so
I suppose you should know
That their thinking’s outside of the box.
Town fathers, afraid for their flocks
of women, imposed panty locks
To guard their pure chastity,
Thwarting tenacity
Of men, with their raging young cocks.
Have you ever tried real tasty lox?
The flavor is great, it sure rocks.
Just take a small bite.
The texture’s just right.
(All the medics cure Dr. Brown’s pox)
Have you ever tried real tasty lox?
The flavor is great, it sure rocks.
Take your time, do not hurry.
When your vision gets blurry,
(All the medics cure Dr. Brown’s pox)
(That was the second one) one and two limericks above
She plays lyre; he can’t manage a song.
Once they married, she knew she’d gone wrong
‘Cause the guy is a schmuck.
But she’s showing some pluck
As she harps on his faults all day long.
better tense fit…
Our bagel shop draws in the flocks
But our marriage is still on the rocks
If the judge lets her choose
Our business we’ll lose
She’ll decide that she’s changing the lox.
Chicken Licken clucked word to the flocks:
“Feathered troops, bar your coops, there’s a fox!”
“Barricade them with WHAT?”
Crowed the roosters, “A strut?”
O foul fate! For, too late, they heard “Lawks!”
Instruments of leisure?
Keep your batteries charged, night and day.
You’ll be ready for action that way.
“Disappointment! It’s flat!”
No, you wouldn’t want that.
‘Far too much like a man,’ you might say.
Faulty instruments, or pilot error?
“’Scuse me, captain, but this can’t be right?
If it is, then we’ve lost all our height.”
“It might be. Hard to tell.
Any sign of the swell?
Damn and blast! I hate flying at night.”
She drank too much wine with her lox.
She needed some time to detox
But somewhat hung over
Her giddiness drove her
To switch right to vodka, no rocks!
similar. yet more generic than the one from Jan.17th at 1:29 PM
Jazz musicians all keep their own beat.
Some styles are real funky, yet sweet.
But the ones who are great,
Sure carry their weight.
And we listen to them with our feet.
better than Jan. 21st. 6:21 PM
The triangle’s real hard to play.
Though I practiced it ev-er-y day.
But I failed in geometry
(A “joke” trigonometry)
And a circle goes ev’ry which way.
When your instrument fails to respond
And you’re sunk in the slough of despond,
Keep your pecker up, lad!
Take a tip from your dad.
Leave the brunettes alone and try blonde.
Oleg a quite handsome young Russian
Performed on orchestral percussion
And with vodka all fuelled
His act really ruled
Though his hairstyle could do with some brushin’
Both Romeo AND Juliet
Were poisoned. On that I would bet.
They’d eaten some lox
And died of that pox
Mercutio in motion had set
Instuments?
“Oh, felatio has its rewards!
That’s, of course, if they strike the chords.
NEVER blow! Please don’t chew.
(Should this happen to you,
Please refer to the ‘Blow Job Accords’.)”
“Oh, felatio has its rewards!
That’s, of course, if they strike right the chords.
NEVER blow! Please don’t chew.
(Should this happen to you,
Please refer to the ‘Blow Job Accords’.)”
I seem to be getting worse. Sorry!
I’m a pigging-out queen, yes, a master
Of creating digestive disaster.
I eat five pounds of lox
That drop down to my socks.
What goes in will just come out less faster!
Between boulders on one of his walks,
He found whiskey in crates without locks
His luck WENT up a notch;
When nobody would watch
Him get drunk drinking Scotch on the rocks.
Nessie’s not the sole monster who stalks
The deep waters and shorelines of lochs.
Now don’t have a spasm
Each continent has ’em
In watery chasms and rocks.
(Two in One)
What makes people say, “Hey, Scotland rocks!”?
Bagpipes, KILTS, haggis, whiskey and lochs
Castles, Highlands, I guess
Scottish sheep’s wool, no less
Don’t forget that (Loch) Nessie haunts docks!
There’s a glitch on my instrument panel
No response to my Mayday!-Help! channel
That air traffic controller –
A snoring patroller
Just sleeps on the job wearing flannel.
After working my bones to the max,
I go home, sit, drink wine and relax.
When Dave Brubeck plays live,
I revive and I jive
With “Take Five” on piano and sax.
(true story… which happened at my music jam session)
My guitar’s blasted G string had broke.
Smart remarks that mishap did provoke –
“Oh Suzanne, won’t you please
Just perform a striptease?”
The whole band never ceases to joke!
Learning flute was a bitch, I recall.
Before blowing air forward at all,
Both your lips have to ape
A wee hole that’s the shape
Of a diamond, agape, but still small.
I could not make that magical sound
But in wheezes and hisses, I drowned.
Upper lip had a bump
Quite a big fleshy lump
Threw the flute in the dump as I frowned.
My mean sister has kids with all thumbs.
When I spoil them, they just take what comes.
I’m not obsessional,
Only progressional.
Got them professional drums.
I played bagpipes with songs I compiled
But my hopes of much praise were reviled.
My old Gramps would assail –
“I can hear the cat wail!
Just stop pulling its tail, you bad child!”
Glenn Miller’s lead trumpeter quit..
Cut his lip, it had split (holy shit!)
Would the audience swoon
To a clarinet’s croon?
Saved the day, ’cause the tune was a hit!
The instrument used to make babies
Makes men BATTY, you’d think they had rabies!
But if there’s an itch
And they scratch like a bitch,
Diagnosis will switch to damn scabies.
(true story)
Had a Jew’s harp, and played a fun game
Sat in back of my classroom, took aim.
I would pluck with my thumb
‘Gainst my teeth and would strum.
Kids could NOT tell where from the sound came!
…’ Cause I quickly would hide it right after
The “boing” sound; and all would look dafter
Than cows with no tits
And a case of the shits
Then they’d break out in fits of great laughter.
When Fred Flintstone became the Grand Poobah,
The band played with many a tuba.
Sounded LIKE a big fart
So their fame fell apart.
They got sent to the heart of East Cuba.
When I spot on some neighborhood blocks,
Cardboard shelters with duct tape for locks,
I strive not to berate
Any soul in a crate
Who prefers to think inside the box.
Dr. Frankenstein built me a fox:
Pretty face, framed by long, lovely locks.
But he did something odd
While constructing her bod.
Let’s just say I’ll be needing two cocks.
For famed freighter Captain Susan Cox
Traffic at the canal never blocks
Her main money backer
Calls her “the safecracker”
Due to her skill at picking the locks.
A Legal Instrument?
It is said of the ancients, online,
That a farmer, imposing a fine,
Could demand of a thief,
“Perform oral relief!”
That’s a very brave farmer. Not mine!
just noticed a rhyming error from January 19th, at 11:35 AM
I rhymed tube with infuse. correction:
Colonoscopies here are real nice.
Our instrument’s quite a device.
We make sure that the tube
Is coated with lube.
Then insert a real sweet pumpkin spice.
Of those sins that wash up on the rocks —
Tattered clothes, shattered toes (still in sox!) —
Horrid sights that appall,
What’s the worst one of all?
Ruined salmon that could have been lox!
The pro led a life of hard knocks.
She never had tasted good lox.
But she did share a tale
As she looked for a male,
Of ‘big fish’ she’d ‘caught’ near the docks.
another correction of rhyming error in which I rhymed praised with prays:
1/23 at 1:21 PM
The Baton, the “Wicked Stick”
The music conductor is raised
On a podium, where he is praised.
With that stick in his hand,
He’s convinced that he’s grand,
And acts like a person who’s crazed.
same rhyming error from 1/23….same time thought of another one
(instrument)
The music conductor is raised
On a podium, where he is praised.
But when carried away,
He puts on a display
Like a loony who’s totally crazed.
Ms. Lisi had chats with our Tony
Their riffs in this venue were toney
Their lim’ricks by far
Were just wunderbar
As played on their Steinway Baloney
Late at night, at her door first he knocks
then he uses her key and unlocks.
As promised, she’s waiting,
For passionate mating.
His fox wearing nothing but socks.
Removal Of The Adrenal Gland (a fairly common procedure)
The surgeon was very perplexed.
The new instrument sure made him vexed.
So with laptop in hand,
He clicked on “The Gland”
Which explained what the hell to do next.
I asked Santa to bring me a cello,
But St. Nick only laughed: “My dear fellow,
That won’t fit in my sled;
Try this weed here, instead,
If you’re looking for smooth, rich, and mellow.”
DOUBLE SPELLING!
Monday morning, the deli boss (Fox)
Encountered the rudest of shocks:
The Sunday guy (Bridges)
Had burgled the fridges!
Fox had to replace all the lox / locks.
Here’s my combo . . .
The practice rooms all had these locks,
Putting his jam in a box.
But for a small fee
He purchased a key.
And now at least one piano rocks.
The current Limerick-Off ends tomorrow, Saturday, at 4 pm (Eastern time.) So please get your limerick stragglers in.
“Grasp it firmly with both hands”, he said,
“Now get over it, lower your head,
Purse your lips, and then blow.
Ah, that’s lovely! Just so!”
… She was learning the flute – you misread?
The oboe’s a querulous breed.
What produces its yowls? Double reed —
But, for me, I will say
Reading two books a day
Offers far greater pleasure indeed.
Response to Brian Allgar…
You have led us right into temptation
With your rhyme’s instrumental narration.
Your male READERS will swear
And then howl in despair
With your incomplete rare demonstration!
Response to Sharon Neeman…
Then you’ve never heard Mr. Marcello
With his oboe concerto so mellow
Second movement/ C minor
There’s no sound diviner,
Nor sweeter, nor finer, dear fellow.
Then there’s oboe by Mozart and Bach
Scarlatti, Vivaldi – they rock!
Joseph Haydn’s notes roll
Handel’s good for the soul
Fills my heart’s empty hole ’round the clock!
Thanks so much everyone for another fun two weeks of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Limerick-Off Award 462 . Congratulations to the winners!
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Main.
The lady was slinging her mane
Until it was caught on a train
It cut her hair short
So, she went out and bought
A wig with a triple inch mane
My stimulus paid some bills
It came from capitol hill
I said, give more please
They was such a tease
The fight to pass it gave me a chill