A YIDDISH POEM by Gene Wilder

A Yiddish Poem - by Gene Wilder

If you can understand this, you:

(a) Are probably as old as I am

(b) Have a good worldly education

(c) Are Jewish

(d) Grew up with a Bubbe living with you, or close by...

(e) All of the above

Yiddish was the secret code, therefore I don't farshtaist,

A bisseleh maybe here and there, the rest has gone to waste.

Sadly when I hear it now, I only get the gist,

My Bubbe spoke it beautifully; but me, I am tsemisht.

So OI vei as I should say, or even oy vai iz mir,

Though my pisk is lacking Yiddish, it's familiar to my ear.

And I'm no Chaim Yonkel , in fact I was shtick naches,

But, when it comes to Yiddish though, I'm talking out my tuchas.

Es iz a shandeh far di kinder that I don't know it better

(Though it's really nishtgefelecht when one needs to write a letter).

But, when it comes to characters, there's really no contention,

No other linguist can compete with honorable mentshen:

They have nebbishes and nebechels and others without mazel,

Then, too , schmendriks and schlemiels, and let's not forget schlemazel.

These words are so precise and descriptive to the listener,

So much better than "a pill" is to call someone 'farbissener'.

Or - that a brazen woman would be better called Choleria,

And you'll agree farklempt says more than does hysteria.

I'm not haken dir a tshainik and I hope I'm not a kvetch,

But isn't mieskeit kinder, than to call someone a wretch?

Mitten derinnen, I hear Bubbe say, "It's nechtiker tog, don't fear,

To me you're still a maven, zol zein shah, don't fill my ear.

A leben ahf dein keppele, I don't mean to interrupt,

But you are speaking narishkeit.....

And ...A gezunt auf dein kop!"