"The Ballad of Mort and Candy"
Or..."Michael Migrates To Hawaii From The Frozen Wasteland of New
York And Recycles an Old Love Story In Limerick Form."
Our Hero
His Quarry
PART I
There once was a penguin named Mort.
A waddling, fish-loving sort.
He would spend all his days
Catching salmon and rays
Then, at sundown, stroll down to the port.
At this harbor the watermen played
While a dancer named Candy displayed
Her voluminous charms
As the men beat their arms on the bar
(What a racket they made.)
Our friend Morton would sit all alone,
Watching Candy, his heart cold as stone.
He would sip salmon juice
With a splash of vermouth
And then sadly, at closing, go home.
How he longed to tell Candy his dream
That they'd frolic together unseen
Making passionate love,
Borealis above
Sympathetically lending its gleam.
But alas-she was human, he not.
She was lissome and tall. He was squat.
Thus he hadn't a prayer
Of becoming a pair
With fair Candy (at least, so he thought).
All his penguin friends told him "Forget her!"
"Find a penguin girl-what could be better?"
But for poor lonely Mort
There was but one retort:
"I want Candy-and somehow I'll get her."
PART II
It was Friday in cold Shanty Town
And young Morton was shuffling around
Formulating a plan
Which would win him the hand
Of the statuesque beauty he'd found.
Quickly downing a minnow for courage,
Morty moussed back his wings with a flourish
Thinking this might entice
His beloved to look twice
At his penguinly style, haute couture-ish.
On his tiny webbed feet he put shoes
Topped with spats of unspeakable hues.
Then he donned his top hat
And exclaimed to his cat, "I'm so fine, there's no way I can lose!"
At the tavern the action was hot.
Candy danced while the men drank and fought.
Such commotion they caused
That not a soul paused to look up
As Mort hopped to his spot.
"Double salmon martini, garçon,"
Ordered Mort from the books he sat on
He proceeded to pound
Seven more of them down
'Til his last inhibition was gone.
With his gumption sufficiently high,
Morton weaved to the stage, keen to try
Making dear Candy see
That a fowl such as he
Could in fact be a regular guy.
PART III
Mort the penguin was not very tall.
He stood three feet, three inches, that's all.
So while Candy gyrated
Mort's view was frustrated
By four feet of stage and drywall.
When her torrid performance was finished
And the shouts of the crowd had diminished
Candy moved to descend
From her perch once again
When she spied a small top hat, penguinish.
She mistook the chapeau for a chair
And, predictably, put her foot there
Plunging Mort into black
Like a penguin hat-rack
While she sauntered on by, unaware.
Mort took two awkward steps toward the door.
Then he tripped and fell onto the floor.
Like a bagel he rolled
Straight out into the cold
And returned to the bar nevermore.
As for Candy, she cared not a hoot
For her flightless disciple's pursuit.
By and by she wed Johnny,
Who dressed in Armani
And towered above her, to boot.
"But what happened to Morty?" say you?
Seems his fate was a happy one too.
He joined Penguin AA
Where he met Desiree,
Who was three-foot-two, eyes of blue.
THE END
©1996 Michael Rachap
For more poems, e-mail rachap@ny.ddbn.com
