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!
Copyright © Bryan Norton | Year Posted 2023
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