When the strawberries are in season
In my opinion, droves of people lose all reason
Spend all day in the blazing hot sun
Picking berries until their backs are done.
Why save a dollar and get a back ache?
Cough up a couple extra bucks - that's all it'll take
To avoid picking and be on your way
To enjoy the bright sunny day.
The pickers I know all have money to spare
Is it the Depression mentality lingering there
Or the Protestant work ethic gone deep into the bone
Whatever it is - they'll be picking on their own.
The first thing I'm going to do
Is buy a basket or two
I've waited all year for fresh berries to arrive
Now they're here and I'm still alive
What I plan to do
Is go straight home and have a bowl or two.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem