’Twas mid-way through Pesach, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse -
For even the vermin, from the bold to the meek,
Were stopped up from their diet of matzoh all week.
If I’d run marathons with the carbs I was loading,
My kishkes might not feel like they were exploding.
I had tried eating prunes to dislodge the foul mass,
But they were insufficient to unplug my ass.
So I just went and tucked myself into the bed
While visions of normal food danced in my head.
But as soon as my eyes closed, I heard a great clatter!
I arose with a thump to see what was the matter.
And what to my tired old eyes then appeared?
An Orthodox rabbi with a dark bristly beard.
And he said, “Don’t just stand there admiring my whiskers –
I came here to help you and your impacted kishkers!”
He gave me a spoon and a bowl of compote,
Saying, “This stuff can help a snake crap out a goat.
It’s got plenty dried fruit and a drop of sweet wine,
Chase it with slivovitz, and soon you’ll be just fine!”
Then, laying a finger alongside his nose,
Saying, “Pesach Sameach!” up the chimney he rose,
Not staying for “thank you,” just like the Lone Ranger -
I owe my clean bowel to that rabbinical stranger!