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!