I inquired about the pears
Hanging there on his tree.
Said he, they’re not fit much
For the squirrels or the bees.
Oh, I think they’re just fine,
Alice said with a crunch…
And I thought I heard David
Say he had one for lunch.
Encouraged, I asked dad,
May I have just a few?
To take home and pickle…
I’d make them brand new.
Of Course! Certainly you can!
Go get two big bags, maybe three!
By this time I thought he might ask Jess
To cut down the tree.
So gather I did
Till the ground was bare
I began to feel thankful
There were no more pears.
Just then Jess looked up
And what did he see?
Perhaps four dozen pears
Still up in the tree.
Go get that Long handled rake, for goodness sake,
The limbs are too high to give them a shake.
Dad said this would work
To bring them all down.
I had visions of more pears
All covering the ground.
So off the rest fell,
Thankfully not on my head.
If so, the next day
I’d have something to dread.
I took them all home and pickled them good,
Locked ‘em up in jars like I knew I should.
Now they’re bottled in brine,
And appear quite tame.
But I don’t believe the pear tree
Will ever be the same!
