While traveling on the group tour which inspired “A Gift for Gadi”, a friend and I spent a day stumbling around a foreign marketplace, our bellies stuffed and our eyes wide. We were totally out of place – yet we were at ease. I invented a word to describe the feeling of wandering aimlessly without a care: “roaming around like a couple of drongos.”
The word “drongo” doesn’t have a pithy definition, but this poem (and its companion, “Drongo Explained”) should help you get the idea. A hedonist, a bon vivant, a fish out of water, an artist, a scrounger, a drifter, or a jester might all be drongos.
He's cheerfully strolling Devoid-of-all-goaling Gracelessly fearless, our witless fellow Down the street ambling Unhurried rambling To none beholden, the peerless drongo! Pausing to peer as the Ladies draw near is he Finding no shame in production of drool With lust for the stocking The drongo comes knocking No need of motley has this kind of fool Wanton debauchery Lewd side-eye watchery 'Round the whole world in his bumbling flow Snorting and snootling Fecklessly frootling To none beholden, the peerless drongo! Cheapest of epicures Drinker of every beer's Last golden drops in the bottle at hand Market stall prowlery Flavor night-owlery Led by his stomach all over the land Faced with this nobody Go with the flow, buddy When you come near him you're certain to know Share what you have today Soon he'll be on his way To none beholden, the peerless drongo!
[I am aware that not all speakers of English pronounce “epicure” /'ɛpɪkiɹ/, rhyming with “beer” /'biɹ/, as I have rhymed them here.]