On a lark, a little bit of fun with fiction. Thanks to @JustSayXtian on Twitter for the prompt.
If you enjoy this little story, please give some tzedakah. I would really appreciate it if you'd give generously to this GoFundMe, to help care for the family of a dear friend who could use the help.
Otherwise, any other charity is fine.
Nu, in the old country we heard
how in the goldene medina
they had a king who was mamash a mensch.
Scef's boy, Scyld, no, not the doctor, the other one,
He was davka a real shtarker. Every day he went out
and showed the nishtgoodniks what's for.
Such nachas they had from him!
Later, Scyld had a boychik,
A little vilde chaya,
Ribbono shel Olam sent him,
because He knew the tzuris they had.
They called him Beow
(But his Jewish name was Mendele)
And when he grew up he was a baal tzedaka
and everybody spent Shabbos by him.
Scyld lived to a hundred and zwanzig,
And then he passed, and the Men's Club sat shiva.
They did a meal like you wouldn't believe
Corned beef, knishes, the whole shmear.
Then Mendele took over the family business.
He was a mensch. His son Halfdane
Merited three boys and a girl.
The middle boy, Hrothgar
Had a good name
He did very well for himself
And decided to build a shul
He raised funds and built it
And called it after his friend Hirsch Tzvi
And it was packed all the time
Not just on the High Holy Days
But this too shall pass,
And did they have tzuris?
Oy, like a bad machatunim,
You shouldn't know from it.
That mamzer, that dybbuk
Ptui ptui ptui-
Decided to stir the pot.
He hated their davening
And their simchas.
This cossack, this Grendel-
He should grow like an onion-
Had such a bad yichus
That nobody would go near him.
At night he came to the shul,
After Hrothgar had a big tisch,
And it has to be said, everybody
Was a little schluffy because
They all got shiker.
And Grendel - his name should be erased -
He came in and wrecked up the place
And snatched up 30 men, carrying them away
Like a gonif.
In the morning everybody saw what happened,
And Hrothgar cried "Gevalt!"
This he needed like a lokh in kop.
Twelve years this went on,
Until the Hrisch Tzvi shul
It became the shul
That nobody goes to.
One day, though, b'ezrat Hashem,
Somebody came to help.
Built like a golem, strong like an ox,
But a Yiddishe kop too.
He sailed over with a minyan
Plus a few extra men just in case.
The gabbai stopped them at the door,
And asked them: "Nu?"
The man said, "We are talmidim of R' Hygelac,
And maybe you heard of my father, Ecgtheow?"
The gabbai said he knew them,
Had seen them at a wedding once.
He opened the shul for them,
Then wished them Aleichem Sholom.
They found Hrothgar there,
With a couple of guys from the Kiddush Club.
Such a shanda, that a mensch like this
Should look like such a shlimazel.
Hrothgar said he remembered this man-
Dov Velvel, he was called - from when
Ecgtheow married Hrethel's daughter.
Dov Velvel said he came
To give Grendel such a zetz
And then they kibbitzed
And had coffee and cake.
That night, Dov Velvel and his minyan
Laid down for schluff.
They thought this would be the end for them.
But Dov Velvel was a real frum Yid,
And trusted in Ribbono shel Olam
To take care of him.
Then Grendel -
His mother should only know sorrow of him! -
Stole in like a fox among the chickens
And grabbed up a man
And gobbled him up
Like the first man to the chulent pot at the kiddush.
Then Dov Velvel jumped up from the bed
Where he had been pretending to sleep,
And he grabbed on to Grendel
With all the strength he had.
The two of them banged around the shul,
They knocked over the chairs,
They wrecked the shtenders,
But Dov Velvel held on tight,
Stubborn, an akshen.
Then, with a wail like a shofar,
Grendel - all of our problems
Should go on his head -
Cried out, defeated, but
Dov Velvel hung on still,
To teach him a lesson,
And he tore off Grendel's arm.
Grendel - may the leeches
Drink him dry -
Turned tail and ran back to the swamps
To die there, and to be judged by the One above.
And Dov Velvel was made President of the shul.
And to celebrate, they had such an oneg,
That people still talk about it to this day.
But this, too, shall pass...