Der Vallfish

Huge, svelte beater of the ocean paths The blue or sulphurbottom whale Casts its bulk through the depths But cannot outrun its tormentor, the harpoon gun, So all its hundred feet or so Are liquefied in the factory ship With the result that there no longer are Enough to meet and mate.

And so to push the species forward While the ocean may contain Individuals, they cannot find one the other And the species will be zero In the fullness of time.

In similar vein, those of Ashkenaz (except some dolphins of the devout) Cruise the English-speaking seas Without the help of a helpmate And so if they long To hear a juicy mama-loshen They will have to speak out loud.

And some who would have wished To speak it are thwarted By obtuse progenitors And so the aforementioned sulphurbottoms Sail in lonely linguistic splendor Around the world and then There will be none.

So rather than frontiers A folk must guard its language, in which I say good-bye.