“What was the fruit ?” I heard jungle drums rumble
Perhaps apple tart or a blackberry crumble
A conniving confection, designed to ensnare
Converts our Miss Rees into Mrs Ridware
(The old) piano man never a vegetable tasted
He went straight for the meat – not a moment was wasted
On vitamins, fibre, plate borders herbaceous
Watch him eating greens ? No, you’d have to wait ages
‘Cos you couldn’t persuade Hamstall to go try a cherry
Or to veer from the course of his path dietary
Until one day daintily tripped on the scene
A finely turned calf, a cut trimmed so lean
So taken was Hamstall, he came over all manic
His defences were down when she mentioned ‘organic’
When she offered him plates of fruit plucked from the vine
He had quite different fruitiness inside his mind
And nowadays Hamstall is not so carnivorous
He’s prepared to eat food which was never viviparous
There’s a look now that all of his friends recognise
A fruit laden contentment that cannot tell lies
There’s the love of a woman who does more than just cook
It takes more than a pie to manufacture that look !