Apple Pickin' Time
Come an' pick yerself an apple,
Come an' pick a heapin' load;
Come an' pick a bloomin' bushel
An' a couple fer the road.
There's a dozen different sizes,
Pink an' yella, red 'r lime,
Shades that match the pale sunrises
Of the apple pickin' time.
Go an' make an apple pie,
Make it thirty miles high,
Then you'll be in apple heaven
Till the day you up an' die.
Come an' pick yerself an apple,
Come an' pick a heapin' load;
Come an' pick a bloomin' bushel
An' a couple fer the road;
Some for Gran and Uncle Pete,
An' a few fer fighting crime;
'Cause the fella down the street
Knows it's apple pickin' time.
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment