The father-in-law of a friend of mine was a lover of apples and one day we were discussing apples and the term,'Love Apple,' came up. I really liked the term (not knowing that a love apple was really a tomato) so I decided to have my friend write a song about it. I called it:
Love Apple
Winesap and Johnnie and Red Roman Beauty,
These fruits are so sweet and so firm and so round-
You must bend down the limb, pick them off while their growing
Or they'll shrivel and die and fall off on the ground.
The Earth is their Father , the tree is their Mother,
The limbs get their life from the rain and the sun
And give birth to the leaves and the buds and the blossoms
And love apples grow when the cycle is done.
When they're tender and tasty and they’re just right for plucking,
If you gently caress them `and you pick them with care-
They will nourish and fill you and their juice will enrich you,
But if the blossoms are crushed all the tree will be bare.
You must tend to the roots where the life blood is starting,
To enrichen the soil, you must spread it around,
Because there's nothing as sad as an aging love apple
That has withered and died and fallen off on the ground.
Arf...
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