Peachtree
O the grape is fine, on its curling vine,
and when crushed, its wine inspires truth.
And a current or cherry or any old berry
can carry me back to my youth.
And bananas or mangoes can make me dance tangos;
wherever that gang goes, I'll bite.
But the tall peach tree is the fruit for me --
it's a symphony of delight!
Now the noble plum makes me sing and hum,
or can strike me dumb as a mute.
And I almost would diya to find a papaya,
it's like the messiah of fruit.
And an apricot really hits the spot,
(though I'd rather not bite the stone).
But the tall peach tree is the fruit for me --
with a quality all its own!
Now the peach is grand, for it fits your hand,
and it's not too bland or too tart.
There's a seam or split down the side of it,
and a warm red pit of a heart.
And I'm almost sure that the yellow fur
and the juice are perfectly right,
Which is why the peach, over all and each,
is the fruit I reach for at night!
O the nectarine (which is seldom seen)
is a rather keen thing to taste.
And I love a good orange, but since nothing whatsoever rhymes with orange,
the rest of this line is a waste.
Those who dare eat a pear find it fair past compare,
with an air that is rarer than gold.
But the tall peach tree is the fruit for me,
for it's heavenly just to hold!