Green Apple Time

Green apple time! an’, Oh, the joy

Once more to be a healthy boy,

Casting a longin’ greedy eye

At every tree he passes by!

Riskin’ the direst consequence

To sneak inside a neighbor's fence

An’ shake from many a loaded limb

The fruit that seems so near to him

Gosh! but once more I'd like to be

The boy I was in eighty-three.

Here I am sittin’ with my pipe,

Waitin’ for apples to get ripe;

Waitin’ until the friendly sun

Has bronzed‘ em all an’ says they're done;

Not darin’ any more to climb

An’ pick a few afore their time.

No legs to run, no teeth to chew

The way that healthy youngsters do;

Jus’ old enough to sit an’ wait

An’ pick my apple from a plate.

Plate apples ai n't to be compared

With those you've ventured for an’ dared.

It's winnin’‘ em from branches high,

Or nippin’‘ em when no one's by,

Or findin’‘ em the time you feel

You really need another meal,

Or comin’ unexpectedly

Upon a farmer's loaded tree

An’ grabbin’ all that you can eat,

That goes to make an apple sweet.

Green apple time! Go to it, boy,

An’ cram yourself right full o’ joy;

Watch for the farmer's dog an’ run;

There'll come a time it can n't be done.

There'll come a day you can n't digest

The fruit you've stuffed into your vest,

Nor climb, but you'll sit down like me

An’ watch‘ em ripening on the tree,

An’ jus’ like me you'll have to wait

To pick your apples from a plate.