What Will Hopefully be the Last Abir Post. Ever.

I know, now I'm getting sick of it, too. Stupid poetic justice.

Anyway, as is my wont, I've composed an (overly long) ditty about the whole thing. I imagine it would be best suited to some bad boy band score. Since I don't have access to a drum machine or pubescant-boy synthesizer, you'll have to use your imaginations (all of you musically-inclined Youtube video makers have the Friar's permission to use this in whatever project you like).

Thus, I present...

The Abir Song

Sometimes it seems it's hard to be a Jew,
Don't know where to turn,
Hard to know what life wants from you,
So many times you've been burned,

But there's someone you've just got to meet,
A holy family in Jerusalem,
So dust off your gi,
Get on your feet,
And let's all go join them...

Abir,
Warrior Arts,
We will show you the way,
When you've got Abir,
There's no reason to fear,
As long as you know Maneuver Haaaaay,

Abir,
Warrior Arts,
We tell you, we're for real,
We're not like those Kabbalah Center fools,
And we'll make you such a deal.

Jews from all around the world
Are joining in our quest,
From Rio to Kaifeng, to Boro Park,
As we crush evil-doers' chests,

Sure some folks are skeptical,
They think that we're swindlers with magnetic charms,
But maybe they will change their tune
When our swords chop off their arms.

Abir,
Warrior Arts,
We'll point you on the right path,
Together we will show the world
That Jews can do much more than math,

Abir,
Warrior Arts,
We'll end the exile tonight,
Nothing makes you feel like a completed Jew
Like the ability to fight.

Everyone knows Abir is true,
Even the rabbis all say so,
It'll lift up your spirit and heal your soul,
Not like that pagan Tae Kwon Doooooh,

Abir's like yoga for your brain,
It'll help you cleanse your mind,
The holy alphabet will help you out,
Even if you're old and blind!

Oh, Oh, Oh,

All these people keep coming in,
Our power can't be surpassed,
If somebody were to give us crap,
We would surely kick their ass,

Abir's an ancient secret,
Jews guarded it with their lives,
Better to be burned at the stake,
Than to explain those squiggly lines,

But we kept Abir going,
Through song, and letters and dance,
It's sort of like the Maori Hakka,
Except we still wear pants.

Don't know if you're Ashkenazi,
Or maybe Yemenite,
But you know it doesn't matter,
Everything's all right,

I learned Abir from my father,
Who learned it from his,
It's been in our family since the Middle Ages,

It goes back to Moses,
Who learned it from the bush,
Then he took his staff,
And whacked Aaron in the tuuush!

Oh, Oh Oh,

Abir...

I really want,

Abir...

I gotta have,

Abir...

Somebody buy me,

Abir...

Want to pop the top and drink down all your wisdom, Grand Master...

And crush the can against my skull...

Abir.