Schnorrer of Schwenksville

I imagine little house on the prairie (bordering Lake Woebegone), a place to hang cloak most bucolic, edenic, idyllic... apropos place for this poetic cowpoke, who at present day trumpets himself as token panhandler of Perkiomen Valley, a genteel, gentile, and gentle Semite with friendly okie doke demeanor easily mistaken for dishabille and disheveled drunk, nonetheless harmlessness, I evoke espied by any man, woman and child in these parts predominantly non kosher festive folk, (especially at Old Pool Farm August 16, 17, 18 2019) quick witted with zealous wordplay, quips and/or oy gavalt hexameter innocent joke adroit, capable, das strict test electrifyingly faux gerrymandered, incredible ventriloquist nsync with karaoke reaching within my rabbinical bag of tricks succeeding with flying colors par excellent masterstroke or sometimes more'n one ministroke never abracadabra prestidigitation to insult nor poke fun at anybody but yours truly, though even lampooning self could provoke unwittingly etiquette revoke king welcome as town pauper, inscrutable hobo (phobic) figure, beggar pummeled By George with thoroughly good soak king courtesy rotten tomatoes if gibes overly saucy subsequently shuffling off into sunset emulating Charlie Chaplin encountering wealthy patron as blessed thunderstroke before getting struck by lightning!