Balagala

The Dubner Maggid was a very good and learned rabbi of monumental renown.
He taught us Torah and clarified the hardest verses from sun up right through sundown.
His sermons they were erudite, full of light, and just a tiny bit droll.
His parables reached deep, deep inside each heart, head and soul.
He frequently was called upon to share his boundless wisdom in village, hamlet and town.

The Dubner Maggid had a dedicated balagala, his driver year after year.
This balagala, he conveyed the Maggid to each venue so folks could all come and hear.
His driver was dependable, commendable, always impeccably dressed.
It’s possible if side by side, who’s who would be hard to guess.
Afterwards they’d meet up at the local inn or tavern and share a bagel and shmear.

Taking that wheel – on the road now.
Keeping it real – got the know how.
Rolling along – taking the reins.
Not your same old song – we’re switching lanes.

In late November, on a cold and dreary Tuesday morning, the Maggid called for his ride.
The balagala, bundled up with hat and mittens, swung his door open wide.
He saddled up his old gray mare, brushed her hair, attached her bridle and reins.
He fed the girl a bag of oats, then cleared away the remains.
Then off they went to the Maggid’s home, horse and balagala, and calmly waited outside.

The balagala took the reins and drove the Dubner Maggid to a town far away.
Stopping for lunch, they sat and ate and talked together in a tiny café.
The balagala he bought two beers. Said, “All these years, I’ve listened each time you teach
And I’ve unequivocally concluded that I could give your same speech.
It would mean so very much to me, if you’d be willing, we could change places just for today.”

Taking that wheel – on the road now.
Keeping it real – got the know how.
Rolling along – taking the reins.
Not your same old song – we’re switching lanes.

With a curious smile, the Maggid responded,
“This could be fun but it’s a dangerous game.
What if they ask you a baffling question?”
But his driver assured him that everyone of them would be glad they came.

With lavish fanfare, the “Maggid” and his “balagala” were welcomed by a large crowd.
The village mayor introduced the celebrated rabbi with an congenial bow.
The Maggid he was goggle-eyed, stupefied, watching his driver expound.
It seemed as if his every word was more than just parroted sound.
A hand went up and a question asked — the Maggid feared for his driver,
“That boy’s in big trouble now.”

With knitted eyebrow, the “Maggid” thought for a good long minute before he shared his reply.
Then he told them, “I will give no answer to your query but I will tell you why.”
He then explained how easily, breezily, this riddle can be worked out.
“Even my balagala could get this right, of this I haven’t a doubt.”
Then with a twinkle in his eye, he said to the real-life Maggid,
“Won’t you please answer this guy?”

Taking that wheel – on the road now.
Keeping it real – got the know how.
Rolling along – taking the reins.
Not your same old song – we’re switching lanes.

As the wheels of life go hither and yon
Have a balagala, be a balagala
A friend who can always be counted on.

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