Tutti

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Pick the apple of my eye and bruise it
Bake it in a spiced pie and lose it
Pluck it green chop the tree down to grow shit
Take the core out and decompose it

Strawberries on sale in December
True taste something I can’t remember
3 pounds, solid and smell of nothing
Always one mouldy and three more mushing.

Need cheap goodness then stick to pears
But a pear never ripens when you stare
Turn your back for one or two days
Impossible to pick up the skin falls away

Can’t talk about melons you’ll think it’s boobs
Banana too you’d think I’m being rude
Plums and grapes and red cherries too
Fruits of my labour spat out once chewed


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