Saturday, May 14, 2005
Saturday morning doggerel: "The Legend of the First Cam-u-el"
My grandmother had rather unaccountably memorized this Guiterman poem, "The Legend of the First Cam-u-el," and taught it to me and my cousins growing up. Read it aloud. Watch carefully for the punchline, and consider whether the Saudis would appreciate it.
Or possibly Algeria,
Or some benighted neighborhood of barrenness and drouth,
There came the Prophet Samu-u-el
Upon the Only Cam-u-el –
A bumpy, grumpy Quadruped of discontented mouth.
The atmosphere was glutinous;
The Cam-u-el was mutinous;
He dumped the pack from off his back; with
Horrid grunts and squeals
He made the desert hideous;
With strategy perfidious
He tied his neck in curlicues, he kicked his paddy heals.
Then quoth the gentle Sam-u-el,
“You rogue, I ought to lam you well!
Though zealously I’ve shielded you from every
grief and woe,
It seems, to voice a platitude,
You haven’t any gratitude.
I’d like to hear what cause you have for doing
thus and so!”
To him replied the Cam-u-el,
“I beg your pardon, Sam-u-el,
I know that I’m a Reprobate, I know that I’m a
Freak;
But, oh! This utter loneliness!
My too-distinguished Onliness!
Were there but other Cam-u-els I wouldn’t be
unique.”
The Prophet beamed beguilingly.
“Aha,” he answered, smilingly,
“You feel the need of company? I clearly under-
stand.
We’ll speedily create for you
The corresponding made for you –
Ho! Presto, change-o, dinglebat!” – he waved a
potent hand,
And lo! From out Vacuity
A second Incongruity,
To wit, a Lady Cam-u-el was born through magic
art.
Her structure anatomical,
Her form and face were comical;
She was, in short, a Cam-u-el, the other’s counter-
part.
As Spaniards gaze on Aragon,
Upon that Female Paragon
So gazed the Prophet’s Cam-u-el, that primal
Desert Ship.
A connoisseur meticulous,
He found her that ridiculous
He grinned from ear to auricle until he split his lip!
Because of his temerity
That Cam-u-el’s posterity
Must wear divided upper lips through all their
solemn lives!
A prodigy astonishing
Reproachfully admonishing
Those wicked, heartless married men who ridicule
their wives.
3 Comments:
By 
Dymphna, at
Sun May 15, 08:05:00 PM:
Hmmm...your grandmother, huh? Did your mother know about this? Did anyone tell the social workers?
She couldn't get away with that poem today, you know.
By 
, at
Fri Feb 03, 12:15:00 PM:
Thanks for the cam-u-el poem.
My 85 year old grandfather is still occasionally called upon to give recitations of this poem at family gatherings, and i was looking for a compy of it so that i can carry on the tradition in his stead.
-Carter LeBlanc
By , at
Thu May 18, 08:21:00 PM:
My uncle knew this poem and taught it to me, my sister and numerous cousins. The author wrote another poem about the Wazir's wife. Do you know where I could get a copy of it?
