"Rhyming Jew - A Hip-Hop'Hamilton' Review"

It’s probably been already tried

But still, I’m really terrified.

What if I can’t do it?

Make a start but can’t get through it?

Take a shot

With what I got

And readers say, “Oh man, you blew it.”

Daughter Anna says, “Dad, show ‘em.

Writing rap is just a poem.”

But every poem style has its rules

And I’m afraid that I don’t know ‘em.

I lack diversity

Adversity

Went to a Canadian university.

I’m just a fan

Who has a plan.

But who the heck do I think I am?

Earl Raymond Pomerantz

My name is Earl Raymond Pomerantz

And I decided that I’ll take the chance

Though unfamiliar with the circumstance

Don’t know the steps but gonna try to dance

If I mess up I’ll move away to France

Adieu to Earl Raymond Pomerantz.

Okay, okay, okay,

Let’s go –

Rhyming talk about the show.

Time to see just what I got

Now on the spot

Hope it’s a lot

But if it’s not

Like “Mr. H” up on the stage,

Hey, I am not giving up my shot.

Puh puh puh puh-puh puh-puh puh…

Puh puh puh puh-puh puh-puh puh…

Me and Momma Rachel,

Sittin’ Fourth Row in the middle

So close to the orchestra

They coulda handed me a fiddle.

Wonderin’ if “Hamilton” will be a memorable event

Worthy of the hype

And all the money that we spent.

Dr. M’s already seen it

But she can’t comprehend the clamoring

The production has its charms, for sure,

But it’s no Rodgers and Hammerstein.

Still, the audience is excited, psyched and champing at the bit

There is nothing like the rush

Of a crowd with tickets to a hit.

And then it starts

To pumping hearts

And great anticipating cheers

Five minutes in,

We start to grin

The show’s allaying all our fears.

A history lesson, so complete –

England’s defeat

The Constitution

A “Who’da thunk it?” revolution.

Then brutal fights

About states’ rights.

All from the man who gave us

In The Heights.

Legislative acts galore,

Debt assumption from the war,

Where to put the capital, and more.

Slavery’s ignored, a catastrophic defeat

This crazy tale

Right wins and fails

Set to a propulsive hip-hop beat.

Race, per se, is not a factor

The show’s a pigmentary blur

George Washington’s played by a black actor

And in that motif, so’s Aaron Burr.

It’s all pulled off with peak precision

Like some designer cuckoo clock

Three full hours, with intermission

Mostly singing, rarely talk.

The crowd is in it

Every minute

The man beside me’s jiggling his knee

I wouldn’t mind

I’m acting kind

But his jiggling knee keeps jostling mine.

A show of pageantry and history

Music, dance, intrigue and fun.

But the line that brings down the house

It’s so reliable.

It’s undeniable. 

It’s “Immigrants – we get the job done.”

And yet, if honestly recorded

Although theatrically rewarded

The show was great

But I must state

To being not emotionally transported

If there’s something missing in the drama

We have Hamilton to thank.

What did he do,

For me and you?
The man wasn't Davy Crockett

He created
 a bank.

Cut away the brilliant stagecraft

In its dazzling amount and

What you’re left with is a story

About our first, real smart accountant.

He got shot in a duel

And so, sadly, did his son,

Sending Burr on the run

Sapping the celebratory fun.

But we ate it all up

We had way more than our fill

And now our hero’s looking back at us

From a crisp ten-dollar bill.

(Though that may not last

 As protesting opponents make clear

 They want Hamilton out,

 Replaced by Sacajawea.)

I have written this as best as I could

My apologies if it wasn’t good

Lesson learned:

You can get burned

Wearing another fellow’s clothes

Hope to see you here tomorrow

When I go back to writing prose.

I’ve done my best

To face the hip-hop-writing test

And now I’m tired

From getting inspired

Coming down from being wired

So I’m going to take a rest.

Earl Raymond Pomerantz

That’s right, it’s Earl Raymond Pomerantz,

And I am happy that I took the chance.

But I’d like to shake the hand ‘a

The great Lin Manuel Miranda.

Success, acclaim, everybody knows his name.

And after that, they say, “You wanna?’

The man sits down

He goes to town

And writes the hit song from Moana.

He’s one-of-a-kind

And if you deny it

Sit down, pick up a pen,

My friend

And try it.