Just a click of the tongue, and they burst to honey.
Theyre only this morning off the vine,
And I paid for them down in silver money.
The Corporals widow is witness, her pony
Brought them in at sunrise to-day.
Those oranges -- Gold! Theyre almost red.
They seem little chips just broken away
From the sun itself. Or perhaps instead
Youd like a pomegranate, theyre rarely gay,
When you split them the seeds are like crimson spray.
Yes, theyre high, theyre high, and those Turkey figs,
They all come from the South, and Nelsons ships
Make it a little hard for our rigs.
They must be forever giving the slips
To the cursed English, and when men clips
Through powder to bring them, why dainties mounts
A bit in price. Those almonds now,
Ill strip off that husk, when one discounts
A life or two in a nigger row
With the man who grew them, it does seem how
They would come dear; and then the fight
At sea perhaps, our boats have heels
And mostly they sail along at night,
But once in a way theyre caught; one feels
Ivorys not better nor finer -- why peels
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