You Miserable Fruit Poem by Mathew Lewis

O what a dank day, miserable fruit,
Torn little porcupine stuck upon an ant hill,
We should feel sorry for you no doubt?
But what a funny sight you are.
The clouds sprang forth little toy soldiers,
Little toy soldiers each and every one.
They came on a day unlike all the others,
O what a dank day, miserable fruit.
And I swayed to a rhythm that was not always mine,
But came from some soft spoken side,
O to sway and to watch as you tumbled and tore,
The clown always liked a little bit more.
A river may run ahead of itself,
And of course we can not forgive Camelot,
Robin Hood stole gold we can't punish that,
O what a dank day, miserable fruit.
Nonsense is only an empty meaning,
One I hope you never will get,
You bloodsucker, fly swatter, hope crusher,
lone gusher, marvelous, mystical, miserable fruit.