A Tale of Two Frogs – Chassidic Poetry

We all need to raise our spirits once in a while.
And we shouldn't be too proud to accept the aid of a couple of frogs …

There was a pond, and in this pond
There were two frogs of whom I'm fond:
One named Steven, and he had
No great gifts, but wasn't bad,
A simple fellow, plain and straight,
Who didn't throw around his weight.
He liked to croak and splash about,
Twirl his tongue and stick it out,
Eye the tadpoles, think of flies,
And of a night out with the guys.
The other fellow–whom he knew–
Professor Maxwell, sure as you
Can whistle any tune you please,
Could tell you of his four degrees.
He'd gone to school for brilliant frogs
Upon the private Harvard bogs.
He'd learned the physics of the flop,
The mathematics of the plop,
The science of the pond-side reed,
Upon which aphids gladly feed.
His laminated Ph.D.
Was plastered to a willow tree
For all who passed to stop and see.

Steve and Maxwell, one afternoon–
It was a sunny day in June–
Decided that they'd take a stroll,
Or, rather, take a plop and roll,
For that's their way–and don't make fun.
They liked to frolic in the sun
And croak of topics such as bees,
Beetles, fish and linden trees.
Maxwell would quote a Latin phrase

And Steve would croak a grunt in praise.
His eyes would pop, his throat would swell,
As if to say, "That's great! Well, well!"
Professor Maxwell knew a lot,
He knew exactly what is what,
While Steven was a simple guy,
Content to eat a simple fly.

Now as they strolled and hopped and rocked,
They had to stop–their path was blocked.
A type of thing was in their way–
But what it was they couldn't say.
Not far away, beneath a tree,
A boy was sleeping–he, you see,
Had brought that thing. To make it clear:
His Mom had told him, "Randy, dear,
Aunt Elissa lives quite near.
Please be good, rise and stir,
And take the cream I promised her.
It's in the cow pail by the shack,
Take it to her and come right back."
So Randy set out on his way,
Stopped by the pond–but not to stay,
Just to rest awhile. He ate
A slice of pie. It grew quite late.
He lay a second in the shade,
And fell asleep–and stayed–and stayed.
Steve and Maxwell right now stood
Before a circle made of wood.
They looked and wondered, croaked their best.
Do you know what it was? You guessed?
It was the pail of cream! I say–
You knew the answer right away!

But Steve and Maxwell, though they sniffed,
Although they stared and thought and whiffed,
Had to in the end confess
That what it was they could not guess.
Said Maxwell, "I'll investigate
Its color, size, it shape and weight,
I'll check its angle from that tree
And solve it mathematically!"

"Perhaps it's cream," plain Steven said,
"Although I've got a simple head."
Maxwell snapped in irritation,
"Don't trouble my investigation!"
Maxwell said, "I can deduce,
I logically must induce,
And ipso facto do adduce:
This is a thing that's one foot high,
Its top thus does not reach the sky!"
(With this, he stopped and looked quite smug,
And gave himself a little hug.)
"I therefore move we give a hop
And see what's at the very top."
("It's cream," said Steven, "but it's true,
I know I'm not well-schooled as you.")
They gave a bound, a leap, a hop,
And clambered to the very top.
They hit the cream, they gave a flop–
It was a most stupendous plop!
(And Randy slept, and didn't dream
That frogs were plopping in his cream.)

Steve and Maxwell both kerplunked,
Sank and got completely dunked.

Maxwell rubbed his nose and thought:
"I see that we are really caught.
Newton's proofs regarding motion,
Applying to this creamy lotion–
Remembering earth's gravitation,
And the tidal circulation–
In the light of Einstein's view
Of energy, and space-time too–
Make it clear: we must drown."
He crossed his arms and sank straight down.

But Steven had no Ph.D.
Or any kind of high degree.
He knew one thing–he was quite sure–
He knew that all this cream was more
Than he had ever bargained for.
He knew he didn't want to stay,
He wanted out, and right away.
Without the smallest, slightest doubt,
He merely, clearly, wanted out!
He tried to paddle, jump, to leap–
The cream was gooey, thick and deep.
He tried and leaped, hopped and tried,
Scrambled, fell–he even cried–
And jumped and jumped. All this while,
Maxwell, with a little smile,
Looked at Steve, got set to drown,
He thought that Steven was a clown.
He felt ashamed that he would die
Together with that silly guy.
The cream grew thick. It turned to yellow.
Steven, though a simple fellow,
Jumped on top, croaked a stutter:

"My paddling turned the cream to butter!"
Now he stood–he wouldn't drown.
He wouldn't sink the whole way down.
He pulled up Maxwell, who'd got stuck
In the yellow, yicky muck.
They quickly bounded to the pond,
Of which they both were very fond.

Randy woke. He saw the cream
Was butter now. Was this a dream?
He looked, he thought, could hardly speak–
"I must have slept at least a week!"
He ran to Aunt Elissa, wild,
And told the tale. She only smiled,
And gave him milk and also cake–
One piece for now, and one to take.

Maxwell and Steve hopped to the pond,
Of which they both were very fond,
Leaped in the water, ate some flies,
And soon they saw the half-moon rise.
Maxwell said, "Steven, I
Think that you are quite a guy.
Although I have a Ph.D.
I still can learn some things, I see:
Although it's gloomy, dark and bleak,
Although it seems you're up the creek,
You have to hope, you have to try,
You have to push, to work, to cry.
Oh, do not glumly sit and mope!

You've got to push and fight and hope!
Have hope, and things will be all right."

And so he sang throughout the night.

Now if you sit beside that pond,
Of which, I'm sure, you will be fond,
And listen to the froggy tune,
Beneath the stars and trees and moon–
That croaking chorus in the night,
The water lit by silver light–
Among the moths, the bats, the weeds,
Among the owls, the mice and reeds,
And ask a frog, he'll say to you
That every word I spoke is true.

(Writer, translator, and editor Yaacov Dovid Shulman can be contacted at: yacovdavid@gmail.com)