By ALAN SMASON
Manny Greenberg was a Passover cheater
And it pained him to know it was true
‘Cause when Manny went searching for chometz
He left in his icebox a brew.
Now to hear it from Manny, he would tell you
It was just that he wanted that beer
To stay cold during Passover season
And he’d hope that his reason was clear.
But to those of us who knew Manny
We couldn’t help but to snicker
Manny was a year-round boozer
Who loved to drink his liquor.
So when Manny would clean his house
As Passover started to loom
He removed all the chometz he’d find,
As he searched from room to room.
Out went the bottles of Bourbon,
The Scotch and his supply of rye
And out went the old Magen David
You don’t have to ask me why.
It was just one, tiny little bottle,
So harmless, he thought to himself.
Surely, no one would care about that.
So, my friends, he left it on the shelf.
But Manny neglected to tell Mama
Who stopped by just before her seder
A bottle of suds – that’s forbidden.
This she learned as a girl in her cheder.
“Manny, what on earth has possessed you?
Don’t you know that beer’s not allowed?
To think that your gray-haired mama
Must remind you of what you’ve avowed.
“You can’t have grains or leavened items;
Things that rise are strictly taboo.
So what on earth has possessed you to keep
That bottle of Blackened Voodoo?”
Manny couldn’t answer Mama well
And now that he finally was caught.
The explanation he longed to reach for
Was something he certainly sought.
But as hard as he tried he was dumbfounded
“Is there something inside of my head
That makes me crave to keep alcohol
And its loss is something I dread?”
He kept thinking these things in silence
But he now was above any shame.
Manny knew in his heart he was wrong
And he had no one else to blame.
“I must learn to temper my actions
And my drinking henceforth I’ll subdue.
Keep my passions in check like the chometz
Moderation is what I’ll pursue.
In the blink of an eye and with time to spare
Manny reached for the brew made from grain
With an opener he popped its pop top
And poured those suds down the drain.
“I’ll be better, Mama. Thank you,” he told her
Your shikhur son at Pesach will be fine.
I will give up the beer and all the boozin’
And will concentrate now just on wine!”
©2019 Alan Smason