Thanks to Afred Noyes, author of “The Highwayman,” (1915) and to my father, Irving Fink, who learned it by heart and enjoyed reciting all 102 lines till the end of his life.
And he cooked with a smiling twinkle,/His paring knife a-twinkle,/ His graters and ladles a-twinkle, as he prepped an amazing potage.
We lived in a house of six bedrooms, after our college years
Employed but with quite meager salaries: an amiable group of peers
And most of us came from Harvard, but others we found through ads
And we each took a turn at the cooking—
Cooking—Cooking
We each took a turn at the cooking; and the meals really weren’t half-bad
We’d each put ten bucks in the kitty, and that would suffice for a week
And some would cook all vegetarian, while others more happily served meat
Our dinners increased in variety, as newcomers augmented our rolls
Thus Linda recruited Elmo
Elmo enlisted Eduardo
Eduardo, who offered bruschetta, with freshly made pesto in bowls
Sometimes a bit of romance would change the dynamic of the house
As Patty brought in Marco, who would one day become her spouse
He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, as though he stepped right from a mirage
And he cooked with a smiling twinkle,
His paring knife a-twinkle,
His graters and ladles a-twinkle, as he prepped an amazing potage.
Now Tom was another new fella: Plain-spoken and quite down-to-earth
Chugging beers and stressing over law books, he slowly expanded his girth
Tom’s ears were most attentive to the resonant call: “a table!”
He sprang with his spoon to the table
As the rest of us sidled to the table
Saw the gourmet potage at the table. Then he dug right in like a slob.
Perhaps in a different context, the slurping of soup might be prized
Reared in high-caste Costa Rica, such sounds Marco truly despised
Tom’s volume reached a crescendo as, onto the soup he did glom
Smooth Marco began to unravel
His twinkle was now more like gravel
He grabbed a big spoon at the table– and slurped even louder than Tom!
In the archives of peeves that are pettish, let’s remember this dinnertime showdown
When Marco perceived his fine delicacy being treated like swill at some hoedown
And Tom was perennially hungry, not looking to cause a melee
If you watch our old house in the moonlight
In the ancient flickers of moonlight
You’ll hear Tom and Marco by moonlight still dueling in their peerless way.
Dale Borman FinkDale Borman Fink retired in 2020 from Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts in North Adams, MA, where he taught courses related to research methods, early childhood education, special education, and children’s literature. Prior to that he was involved in childcare, after-school care, and support for the families of children with disabilities. Among his books are Making a Place for Kids with Disabilities (2000) Control the Climate, Not the Children: Discipline in School Age Care (1995), and a children’s book, Mr. Silver and Mrs. Gold (1980). In 2018, he edited a volume of his father's recollections, called SHOPKEEPER'S SON.
I like your Featured image and description of your housemates, in this tribute poem. The slurping must have been exasperating, indeed. You can use that example again for the “manners” prompt.
Very clever take-off on a poem, Dale. I love the featured image of the soup tureen. I have one that’s similar that was my late mother-in-law’s. It sits on a shelf looking pretty but unused because … who wants to wash another thing. She would have disapproved of slurping and serving from a pot.
Bravo Dale!
May your table be ever bountiful!
Slurping…major pet peeve! Along with noisy chewing. Alas, I have one friend who…never mind.
I’ve had to learn about misophonia–an uncontrollable reaction that some people have to the sounds of eating. Happily, I don’t have it, but I seem to be moving in that direction more as I age!
Me, too, Dale! The sound of someone biting their nails is enough to make me move out of earshot.
Very clever, Dale. And may I assume that you track Noyes’ rhyme scheme exactly? (I once memorized the poem, but it is now long gone.)
I also enjoyed the fact that, unlike the rest of us, you did not focus on your own peeve, but that of a housemate. Very unselfish and observant. But where DID you stand on the slurpy peeve scale?
And, like Betsy, I also thought of the upcoming “manners” prompt and how nicely this story would fit in there as well.
John, thanks for these comments! I I tracked the original exactly in the opening verse and in the overall use of stanzas and rhymes. But I took a few liberties in the later verses, such as rhyming gravel with unravel (lines 4 and 5 didn’t rhyme in the Noyes version). BTW a few phrases were direct steals for the cognoscenti, such as the repetition of “twinkle” and the “French-cocked hat on his forehead.” And the ending with the motif of the moonlight.
As to where I stood: I think I mostly SAT with my mouth agape as Marco, the most refined member of the house, with his aristocratic Latin American manners, began the noisiest display of slurping ever witnessed!
I only know Noyes’ poem as a song, because it was beautifully set to music by Phil Ochs. It makes me cry every time I hear it. youtube.com/watch?v=4SZ8ceDzFI4
This was very creative!
I too love the Phil Ochs adaptation. People should read the Noyes https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43187/the-highwayman
and then listen to fully appreciate it.
Yes, thanks to both of you! I now have a fuller appreciation of your story, Dale, and a tune to sing it to.
Oh Suzy (and Dale) thank you for pointing me to this Phil Ochs song. I just listened to it…haunting and beautiful. I’ve always loved his singing, but don’t remember hearing this one.
Bravo, Dale
I was singing the poem as per Phil Ochs until I recalled it was also just a poem. The group housing and dinner scene was very familiar too–I certainly could relate, although I don’t recall slurping competitions. You haven’t lost your theatrical talents.