The kids picked the golden yellow squash
Just the right size to fit in the top of the glass fruit jar
A measure dictated by the buyer that would cut and freeze them
Just the right size for the Birdseye label
But half way through the morning's work
Picking the squash amongst the prickly leaves
One looked up and saw another
Too big for the jar which he picked anyway
Then gave it a heave in the direction of his sister
Hitting her full force in the back as she bent
'Well if that's what he wants, ' she declared
And sent one his way with a masterful stroke
The battle was on with others joining in
And squash flew from rows to the end
Picking big ones was just so much the better
For when they struck home you could hear the splatter.
As quickly as it started, it came to an end
For there were no more squash remaining to send
So they picked up their baskets and headed to the shed
For it was time to weight what was left there instead.
s
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem