A Purim Ditty

What mask shall I pull out
Of my closet for this Purim?
A comic sober scholar, or a lout?
Or the scabrous master of the Harem?

To which of my plenteous souls
Shall I address this annual ask
To specify the moments’ various roles
To inquire about which particular mask?

The businessman market constrained?
Or the student of ancient texts?
The father who labors to sustain?
Or the befuddled observer of political sects?

Let me throw them all off this day
And don a multicolored cloak;
Let not those masks right now weigh
So heavy as to spoil the Purim joke,
Or sober up the joyful Purim play,
By which God’s grace is now spoke.