The Passover Cheater

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