Poetical jaunts

T'was the night before Sukkos, not a creature was stirring,
except for this annoying midge on my screen, that I'm too kind to kill
the sukkah was built,
the schach set upon it,
the lulav and esrog waiting to be picked up four minutes before Yom Tov.

T'was the night before Sukkos, the clouds gathering above
thunderstorms predicted for tomorrow,
that's why the sukkah was put up today.
Of course, I have to help build some other sukkahs tomorrow
so I'll still get wet (probably).

Twas the night before Sukkos, and I'm blogging away
trying to think of words to rhyme,
and sound epithets to carry the day.
No one will mind then,
if I close up shop now,
return to prose,
that greatest cash cow
(what?)

In other news, I'm happy to clear up the possible confusion that resulted from last night's post. The fact of the matter is, a well respected member of my Shul made a scarily accurate prediction on Shabbos, and he desires this fact to be known in the wider community. He would also like to inform my general readership that the Kiddush this past Shabbos was indeed shoddily planned and haphazardly executed. The truth, in this case, was as terrible to behold as the food was to eat.

And now I suppose I have to leave you all with some final words before the '69 edition of the Feast of Tabernacles commences. As Rabbi Gershon Grossbaum said on Shabbos, "Don't arrange some guys who Farbreng until 2 every night, wake up at 12, Daven until 3, go on Mivtzoyim at 4:30, and are done by 5."