with apologies to Dr Seuss
Every Jew down in Jew-ville
liked Purim a lot.
But the Mintz who lived
just south of Jew-ville did not.
The Mintz hated Purim!
The whole Purim season.
And we know just why.
Exactly the reason.
His hero was Haman.
He hated Queen Esther.
Every year he would frown
and his Purim-hate fester.
“They’re baking their Hamantasch,
adding jam with a schmear.
Tomorrow is Purim.
It’s practically here!”
Then the Jews, young and old, would sit down to their feast.
They'd nosh Hamantaschen baked with poppies and yeast.
And then they’d do something he liked least of all.
They’d read the Megillah to the tall and the small.
And the more the Mintz thought of this huge Haman-bash,
The more the Mintz thought, “This year Purim I’ll crash.”
“I will break all their groggers, their hats and their masks.
This Purim season will be the Jews’ last.”
Then he grabbed some old sacks from the Carnegie Deli,
To filch Purim feast with its Hamantash jelly.
And he snatched all the groggers, the masks and the hats,
And said, “This year’s Purim will for sure be their last!”
“When the Jews all wake up, and their Purim is gone,
Then good ol' Haman will finally have won!”
But when the Jews woke, there was laughter, not tears,
As if Mordechai and Esther had allayed all their fears.
And they read the Megillah, and they sang all their songs.
And Purim day came, just the same, for the throngs.
And the Mintz was astonished, asking, “How could this be?
They didn’t fear Haman and they didn’t fear me!”
And the Mintz’s small heart grew three sizes that day
As he realized Purim would not go away.
And the minute his heart didn't noodge him with "OY,"
The Mintz understood Purim's meaning is ... JOY!