No crumble, no jam – we must ask why.
‘Moet et Chandon’ his place remaining,
But still his musty taste is waning.
The grapes are quite a fruitful bunch,
Drink liquidized in any lunch,
But still, a pie-less sphere is he,
A novice to fruit snobbery.
Or how about the citrus fruit,
The marmalade, their attribute,
But as with grapes, they have no pies,
But on the fish the lemon lies.
So oranges have marmalade,
And lemons have their lemonade,
What’s left for limes now those are taken?
Its dignity is now forsaken.
Or passion fruit, now what a name,
A parvenu to class and fame,
Whose meek shell warns the fruit elite,
To cower from his flesh so sweet.
‘Exotic, yes, but who could care?’
Say passion fruits in mock-despair,
They know what envy they impose,
All other fruits are now their foes.
So why is there no mango crumble,
No star fruit in a pie so humble,
No jams, no curd for those with pride,
Fruit snobbery, how it won’t subside.
A petty thing, is this dispute,
With jam, ham, and passion fruit,
Such hate is felt without our knowing,
In depths of fruit bowls foes are foeing…
The final verse, a legacy,
An end to all fruit snobbery,
Not one can win, these fruits so sage,
Who ripe or mould as they do age.
Self satisfied; I’d like to feel,
A mutual love with rind or peel,
The end draws in to this dispute,
We must just give the ode to fruit.
« return.