Bennie Jew

 

 

“He’s a powerful thirst does our own Bennie Jew

   —Five times to the well now has he been today.

The task is completed, his work is through;

   What more is his business there now I say.”

 

“We’ve elected him President year after year.

   Why does he thirst so, our dear Bennie Jew?

Our water is pure—oh! our water is clear,

   But he drinks—Eau! he drinks as no wise man would do.”

 

“’It’s true. I’ve too seen our dear ‘Goldfish’ there,

   Laughing and splashing—and guzzling it too!

He’d run and he’d leap and he’d arc through the air.

   No jewfish could dive like our own Bennie Jew!”

 

They spoke in the church house, the shareholders all,

   With sweetness or bile—depending which ear.

Some voices spoke out to resound through the hall;

   Some voices spoke inward that no one may hear.

A leader! A leader! again we’ll install.

   A leader—to guide us—throughout the new year!

They spoke not of Peter, and not of St. Paul;

   They spoke of naught else but our own Bennie dear.

 

“Never once has he been to the Orient far,

   Our yellow-skinned Bennie, our squinty-eyed Jew.

I fear much his smallness, his grin lies ajar.

   He thirsts, yes, he thirsts—but he hungers now too!”

 

“Good men and good ladies, from morn until eve,

   Who would have worked as our Bennie has done?

If our well deep had claimed him, who of you would grieve?

   I say this unbiased, though he is my son.”

 

“From dawn until dusk he rules, it is true,

   But I ask you sincerely, whose interests come first?

Our little ‘Napoleon Dandy’ Ben Jew,

   For power, for wealth—for our water!—does thirst.”

 

“‘Like a horse you are Bennie, (I gave him the chaff),

   Given your head you would drink till you die.

You must be a draught horse (his wife hid a laugh)

   —One day you will wake up—and quaff our well dry!’”

 

“Figures don’t tell tales—someone has lied!

   How much of our money poured into his well?

Oh, why did he dig it so deep—and so wide?

   To get him to China—or us all to Hell?”

 

“Some thirty Mercedes has Bennie ‘Benz’ Jew:

   They purr and they gleam…then they die and they rust.

But thirty’s a number for Bennie won’t do,

   So he thirsts and he schemes—for another he must!

 

“What did our ‘Hero’ Jew do in the war?

   Was he thirsting for water up there in the clouds?

Did he spy on—turn us in—true to the Corps?

   How earned he those medals of which he’s so proud?”

 

“No barnstorming fool was our Bennie ‘Ace’ Jew;

   Flying strictly by code, no chances he took.

Our great Captain Jew flew a B-52!

   Bombed little Jap ants while astride his rule book!”

 

“He built me a house—such a house it was too!

   More solid than good sense or safety required.

And when it was finished, my dear Bennie Jew

   Was more thirsty than ever good reason desired.

Such thirsting I’ve not seen in all of my life

   —Oh, where does it go to!—oh, what can I do!

He no longer perspires (I should know, I’m his wife).

   I fear—Lord, I fear—for my dear Bennie Jew!”

 

(Backslapping, gladhanding, enters J. Bennie,

   Licking his lips as never more dry)

“Our well is the finest, the finest of many,

   Divinest of any yo—our money could buy.

The shaft goes so deep it is worth every penny,

   And never—no, never—could it ever go dry.

The day that it should is the day that your Bennie,

   The day (God forbid!) that your Bennie should die.”

 

A hush now descended and silenced the throng,

   More silent and deep than an old wishing well.

Then Bennie Jew, knowing the mood was all wrong,

   Wished rightly to know what he could not foretell.

 

Having cast an opinion, now each cast a vote;

   Oh, much more than feelings that night were exposed.

When the ballots were counted each fastened his coat,

   The townsfolk adjourned, and the meeting was closed.

President Bennie, pale, clearing his throat,

   Made a motion official which went unopposed:

He stepped down…Mrs. Jew in her diary wrote:

   “Our own…God, my own Bennie Jew’s been…deposed!”

 

 

Dryer than dry was our Bennie that night;

   Higher his cry than the coyote’s howl;

Fitful his sleep in the warm, full-moon’s light;

   Haunted his dreams by the chill-hooting owl:

 

“The money! my…what? An underground stream?

   Gone?…Oh!…not there?…not down in the deep?”

“Wake up! my own Bennie—it’s just a bad dream!

   Hush Lamb, my innocent. Go back to sleep.”

 

He drank in the darkness, his mouth going dry;

   How much more water? How much would it take?

“Water! more water!—or else I shall die!”

   But no sea or ocean could, Bennie Jew, slake.

 

Up now and parched was our Bennie ‘Lamb,’ pacing,

   His yellow feet kneading the bedchamber floor.

Gone?… a stream?—his fevered mind racing.

   In an instant, a heartbeat, he dashed through the door.

 

Such a powerful thirst had our Bennie that night!

   So strong that he ran without reason or shoe.

He thrashed through the fields and the woods as in flight,

   His mistress to meet there, his dear Waterloo.

 

Up to the wellhead in the moonlight,

   Diving headfirst he gasped, gone his yellow-faced hue:

Not a splash as his ashen face fell deep from sight.

   The well had run dry for our dear Bennie Jew.