Maidelwhines

INa small house in Lakewood

That was littered with bikes

Lived six little kids

Of six different types

In six separate ways, they broke their toys

And made a mess

And lots of noise

They kvetched at the good

And kvetched at the bad

And sometimes they were very mad

They left the house

At eight o’ three

With six scraped knees

With cries

And pleas—

The smallest one was Chaim Tzvi.

He was not afraid of bugs —

He loved fire, guns, and slugs.

To the tiger in the zoo,

Chaim Tzvi just said, “Pooh-pooh!”

And nobody was so zealous

As to frighten Mommy Ganeles

In the middle of one night

Mommy Gan turned on her light

And said, “Something is not right!”

Chaim Tzvi sat in bed,

Cried and cried — his eyes were red.

And soon after Hatzalah came

One man whipped out his phone,

And he dialed: Three-Six-Oh-Oh —

“Ambulance,” he said, “to the hospital we go!”

Chaim Tzvi woke up two hours

Later, in a room with flowers.

Chaim Tzvi soon ate and spoke

And on his bed was a remote.

And a screen on the wall that was calling

Though Mommy Gan found it appalling.

One nice morning Mommy Gan said,

“It’s a fine day to visit Chaim Tzvi in bed.”