Gravenstein Gal

[Timothy Gega]

Gravenstein Gal

I’ve tried ‘em young and I’ve tried ‘em old and a cornucopia in-between,

But nothing is as sweet as my ripe little gravenstein.

Like Isaac Newton’s apple she fell straight from the tree above,

And made me a believer in that fruit of golden love.

I’ve tasted green-green apples, and a lot of sour fruit,

But she’s a gal adorned in fig leaves and she is just too cute.

I’ve tried red ones, I’ve tried green ones but they left me high and dry,

Still nothing was delicious as this sweet little apple pie.

I’ve tried ‘em young and I’ve tried ‘em old, and a cornucopia in-between,

But nothing is as sweet as my ripe little gravenstein.

Her fruit is ripe and juicy and she’s perfect as can be,

There’ll be no more tasting anymore apple Bettys for me.

I’m not bobbin’ here for apples like we did in days of old,

Or stompin’ on those soured grapes to sip some other fool’s gold.

Though she came here as a curious guest she is by far West County’s best,

Just like in Newton’s Theory rests’ she fell into my consciousness.

I’ve tried ‘em young and I’ve tried ‘em old and a cornucopia in-between,

But nothing is as sweet as my ripened little West County Gravenstein.

©2014 Tim Gega