First, thanks to all of you who entered – I had a hard time deciding on a winner. In the end, I guess I’ll have to chalk up the winning entry to my sometimes-sophomoric sense of humor. And without further ado:
Congratulations to Ronald_T, for his winning limerick:
I once tried to chisel a mortise,
But my mallet was too soft and porous;
If this happens to you,
The blue pill won’t do,
You’ll just end up distracted and ferrous
And for those of you reading this for the first time, the original post follows:
Christopher Schwarz, in keeping with the philosophy he espouses in “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest,” has been culling his tool collection and keeping only those he truly needs. At the recent Lie-Nielsen Hand Tool show at our office, he was selling some of his less-than-necessary tools (I succumbed to tool lust and bought his 18″ Lufkin) – but not everything sold.
Did he take the unsold tools home with him? No. No he did not. So I’m getting rid of them. Herewith, I issue this challenge:
Because the Moto-Saw (a motorized coping saw) strikes me as wholly ridiculous (I mean really – for the type of cut one would make with a coping saw, how hard is it to move one’s arm back and forth?!), I’m holding a ridiculous contest. Write a limerick about woodworking tools, the woodshop, projects or anything related to woodworking and post it in the comments below (keep it clean – PG-13 at worst, please). The one that makes me laugh – or better yet, snort – the most wins the Moto-Saw. You have until Friday at noon.
Here’s mine:
The Moto-Saw got some new wires
To keep it from starting a fire.
But poor Sparky got scorched
So we’re passing the torch
To a woodshop with burning desires.
You can read about Chris’s acquisition of the Moto-Saw here – and find out why one of his nicknames is Sparky.
OK Miss Megan…A little cheesy, but:
The fledgling group Dremel of old,
Sold plug-in hand saws, I’m told.
Only one of their gizmos would sell;
At their designers they started to yell,
And now their tools spin fast for gold!
A joiner named Schwartz,
A saw of sorts,
A Megan who snorts??
This contest supports
At first sight, I thought the Moto-Saw was a toy for the tots.
Then, I read it’s not safe for those little snots.
If I had this thing for myself,
I would never take it off the shelf.
And I think, I rather play with the box.
There once was a shop cat named Megan
Who thought she was the queen of peging
A vice she thought nice
It’s better then mice
Now she’s cinching up trice on the slogging.
Since my tool budget is currently zero, I am compelled to send an entry for your Moto-Saw giveaway!
A woodworker friend name of Abel,
Now older is much less ca-pable.
So when sawing or coping,
Instead of just moping,
Holds on while his wife shakes the table.
Ginger Workshop*
There once was a Wood-noggin fool,
Who tippled with most every tool,
He sampled this, and he sampled that,
Til he didn’t know where he was at,
Now he teaches at all the best schools.
He knew a fine Ginger called Meeghan,
Whose pref’rences ran Lizzybeethan,
She caught his disease,
(Let’s hope from a sneeze!),
Now for better old tools she’s ableatin’.
In time with his kindly instruction,
Ginger Workshop set up quite a ruction,
Toward dovetail she headed,
But twas shovetails she bedded,
With her saucy new modes of construction.
Ginger wearied ere long of his spelching,
E’en far worse than that was his belching,
As mechanic he’s rude,
(E’en mortised his food),
And the whole thing just got to be squelching.
He’d set out to make rough places plane,
But drove everyone there quite insane,
He rasped and he hammered,
On videos he stammered,
Til nothing there was left to gain.
So now to the end of our story,
Whose details wax all Blood and Gore-y,
Wood-noggin moved out,
Ginger Workshop’s apout,
Til comes the next piece for draw-boring.
*With apologies to Chris, Megan, Robert Burns, Edward Lear, Eugene Field, Larry Gelbart, Benjamin Moxon, writers of The Holy Bible, and pretty much anybody who ever pushed a noun up against a verb toward useful purpose.
Wow, looks like Smithdal is a professional poet.
Or knot.
There lived an inventor named Friss
whose wife sought mechanical bliss.
His solution didn’t cut it.
He couldn’t bear to gut it,
so sold it to suckers like Chris.
My (hopefully) PG-13 entry:
There once was a joiner named Ewing
Who had a strong penchant for screwing
“No pilot holes in my work,”
He said with a smirk,
“There’s plenty I’d rather be doing”
A young man wanted to buy himself a tool
His Father said he was nothing but a fool
But it`s for woodworking he accorded
Well that thing is corded, and if you get wet you will be shorted
The hand tool salesman thought old Dad was pretty cool
There once was a man with a Moto,
Who gave up his power in toto.
He gave with a wink
A saw that does stink,
But sure does look good in a photo.
Hi Megan, here’s one from Kenya:
There’s many a tool in my chest
But some of them were but a jest.
The Moto Saw’s one -
Bought just for fun,
Though some say it is the best.
Keep up the great work.
There once was a temptress named Meg
Who offered a saw to us dregs
To win it she sang
You must kiss Bob Lang
So for that I must drink a whole keg.
I don’t know if this is that funny, but I thought it up while in the shower… That’s not funny either, it’s just plain weird.
And a little creepy…
There once was a writer named Chris
Who was sad ’cause he’d never been kissed
So he tried working wood
Found out he was good
and then turned into an Anarchist
There once was a hand tool snob
Who bought a saw that made him sob
Then the redhead got stuck
With a saw short on its luck
So she threw it to the literary woodworking mob
This all became a blog post
Whose comments crashed the webhost
The tool-huddled masses
Then lifted their glasses
Giving that saw a Friar’s Club roast
All good limericks start out in Nantucket,
with a man and his corn as he shucks it.
But I’m carried away
and I’ll save for a day
all the reasons why this saw can suck it.
There was a woodworker named Schwarz
Who was a tool aficionado of sorts
But a powered tool
Was against his rule
So he gave it to Megan of course
Megan – Aren’t you glad that limerics have only 5 lines
There once was a man from Nantucket
Whose job was to ship ten large buckets
He found a young knave
To carve eighty staves
And earned the merchant his cocket
My understanding of Limericks is that they should be at least a little raunchy so here’s my PG-13 attempt:
I once tried to chisel a mortise,
But my mallet was too soft and porous;
If this happens to you,
The blue pill won’t do,
You’ll just end up distracted and ferrous.
There once was a man from Arkansas
Among his tools was a Moto Saw
His skill with wire
Almost set him on fire
So we’re keeping him safe with a draw
There once was a joiner called chris
Who’s moto-saw he would never miss
He left it behind for Megan to find
So now she is sending me this!
(I should say that I actually don’t want it, consider mine just an honorary entry)
So, this be my first in many a day
Of your desire for honor I must say
Turning down a freebie
I cannot really see
So just win it and sell it on E-bay
Is that why your “linerick” is in apprentice form? No last line?
Third and fourth lines are melded. Know what meld means? TYPO!! Kinda like your spelling of “”linerick”"
Be nice.