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The man. The legend. The frog.
Jeremiah was a bullfrog
And a good friend of mine.
Never understood a single word he said
But he sure had some mighty fine wine.

Jeremiah was a bullfrog[edit]

Jeremiah's trait that separated him from the rest of the world was that he was not a man, but a frog of the species Lithobates catesbeianus; a bullfrog. He was born on May 23, 1973, to Harvey and Loretta Croaker in the little French villiage of Carpaud. He was the eldest of eight children, all bullfrogs. His childhood was a comfortable one, though never filled with luxury. He was deeply loved by his family and was well-liked in both school and church. He was a very normal bullfrog, with one exception. He had developed at an early age a taste for frog legs. But let's save that for later. Jeremiah completed elementary through secondary education with high marks. He participated in the church choir, where he developed his legendary voice. While most bullfrogs have a boorish, gravelly bellow, Jeremiah was gifted. His mesmerizingly lilting baritone could cause a bluebird to blush in shame. However, his musical career was hindered greatly by the fact that he was a bullfrog. No amount of surgery could cover up that.

And a good friend of mine[edit]

Who am I, you ask? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Morgan J. Smith, a businessman who acted as Jeremiah's agent and very good friend during his musical career. We met in Paris in 1987. I remember it like yesterday. I sat in a metal wicker chair at a table on the terrace of Les Deux Magots[1]. I sipped an excellent Dom Perignon, 1966. The beautiful spring day captivated me as I sat with my legs crossed. A refreshing breeze blew through the Champs-Elysées, where I saw dozens of kites flying lazily through the air. I took this time to reflect on my life, how far I had come, and what the future would hold. It was a glorious day. However, my reminiscing on how fleeting life is was interrupted by a gravelly croaking. I turned to see what had made the noise. A bullfrog sitting at the next table was looking at me expectantly, as though he had just asked a question. I deciphered that he wanted the ketchup bottle which I had possession of. Being an amiable man by nature, I introduced myself as I gave him the Heinz. "Morgan J. Smith," I said amiably. "Musical agent and jack-of-all-arts." He seemed quite intersted in my profession, unlike the several other queues des ânes that had so callously brushed me off. I noticed he was holding a glass of white Bordeaux, a connaiseurs choice of wine. We struck up a conversation and he introduced himself as Jeremiah. I learned he was a singer, but had been unable to find work, mainly because of his species. I, however, saw something in him. I saw greatness. Also, I was on my last ten francs. I gave him my card. Thus began our illustrious working friendship.

Never understood a single word he said[edit]

Unbeknownst to many of his legions of fans, Jeremiah had a serious speech impediment. I do not know the medical term for his condition, but his speech always sounded like a dying amphibian. Horrible croaking and ribbiting. The only time anyone could understand what poor Jeremiah was saying was when he sang. He spoke through his music.


  1. The Two Maggots