Apple Picking

Apple picking with my dad is what I used to do Although he died at 53 he taught me all I knew He told me what the packers see and what they say to us He told me what the public says in matters they discuss He said that picking apples is a hard but worthy job For apples on the fruited plain attract a hungry mob The famished field worker may be hungry for a bite And all the creatures we don’t see are hungry overnight The birds that fly above us are attracted by the red And worms that may disgust us are delighted for a bed And even when the apple sweet is waiting in the store Somebody with an appetite is hungry on the floor We filled them up in bushels and we loved them for the work For apple picking was our life without a single perk We did not mind the picking when the plucking was the same For every apple proudly bore a farmer's famous name The apples that we couldn’t sell were saved as salvage fruit To feed the grazing livestock when the grass was in the root But still we knew that each one sold was precious in a way For each one sold was meant to hold the doctor from his pay Oh how I miss the good old days when picking was an art And every apple red and green was sure to make you smart We knew the pay was very poor and possibly on hold But nothing beats an apple when the price of one is sold!