Picking

When the danger of frost is long past

When spring has come, at last, at last!

We all go down the road to pick

 

You can see us as you drive in

Our butts upturned as we dive in

To the waves of luscious fruit, and stick

 

Them gently in our baskets

It isn’t work, as a task it’s

Pretty much the best

We all attest

 

A simple lean down, the moving aside a leaf and lo!

There’s really nothing like it, though

Joe calls it “primitive shopping”

And we do pick and choose before popping

 

Them in our mouths or baggies

To make jam, or to freeze

Or make smoothies

 

If you gather enough

And “put them up”

They will surely sup

Ply you with plenty

“All year,” someone ringing up twenty

Pounds boasted, counting out ones

“I’ve still got tons!”

 

It’s something to see, really

Tiny faces, pink-smeared and gleaming

Grown men who arrive steely

Yet go away beaming

 

Teenagers dragged out of beds

Arrive mumbling and shaking their heads

Leave off pestering and quibbling

Show big ones to young siblings

 

As if there is something blessed here

In the young part of the year

About the gathering abundance

Our sparkling sun dance

And our giddy, giddy storing up

 

All words and music by Dave Hall ©

Publisher: Row House Music   PRO: ASCAP

Lyrics