Stef has had a lengthy journey today, all the way up to Dundee to stay with me and so I’ve bashed out a poem for you all for tomorrow to save her having to start something now.
Apples on the apple trees, brown and red and yellow,
Apples on the grass below, juicy, sweet and mellow,
Apples in our baskets, apples by the score,
Apples in the apple-room, hundreds there and more!
Apples on the sideboard, polished till the gleam,
When the firelight flickers, how they wink and beam!
Apples in the kitchen, shivering in their skin,
Wondering why Cook has fetched her biggest baking-tin!
Apples in an apple-pie, baked a golden brown,
Apples in a dumping, with a sugared crown,
Apples in a pudding, with custard for a treat,
Apples raw and juicy, crisp and very sweet!
Oh, sing a song of apples, the nicest fruit of all,
Apples big and rosy, apples round and small,
And when we’ve finished singing, we’ll go and help ourselves,
And choose some lovely big ones from the store-room shelves!
From The Enid Blyton Poetry Book, 1934. First published in Teachers World No.1372 Oct 2, 1929.