Ode to a Grapefruit
Ah! Humble Fruit – I sing to Thee
With perfect past'ral Modesty.
I sing Your Virtues – clear to Me
In Moments of Senility.
When on Thy rounded perfect Orb
My Eyes alight, They do absorb
An unparagoned Creation of Our Lord –
Which leaves Me quite without a Word.
Thy sly ambrosial Juice that squirts
Into My Eye in vicious spurts –
That hidden sour Taste that lurks –
Are just, indeed, but trifling Quirks.
And so in Moments of Repose
Fancy flies and I compose
A lilting Ode that fairly glows
With Love for that "Most Precious Rose"…