I walked upon the river bank at nine,
And stood beneath your branches spreading low,
Where beside a gravel path you grow,
The last of many in a wavy line.
And I picked and ate and spat and ate and picked,
And didn’t care how greedy I appeared,
And I ate and picked and picked and ate and flicked
And gorged and stuffed you in, because I feared
Others seeing how I stopped to scoff you
Might follow suit and being just as keen
To sample bliss, might strip you, then I’d miss you
So I kept devouring just because I’m mean
And wouldn’t pay the price in any shop,
And anyway I really couldn’t stop.