“Write about an Orange,” she said,
“About an Orange!” Oh – my – head!
I know why she picked that fruit.
Because poetically it is a beaut.
There is no word harder to rhyme
I think that is what you will find
But me, I know the puzzle, still
you can make of this what you will.
There’s a park of similar name where I was born
I think it’s still there, I’ll check in the morn
Meanwhile an orange is a necessity
So I can set to, to write this ditty
About something I am sad to say
Does not enamour me in any way
All I need is to find a shop
So it’s on the bus that I must hop,
Cos in Oxford there’s an Orange store.
And I am pretty fairly sure
They will supply me with my needs
Maybe even one with seeds.
Ah! Wrong Orange that’s not fair.
They sell only mobile phones up there
So it’s in the market down at the back
There is a man who knows the crack
He’ll sell me an orange for my class
I’ll have to give him some of my brass.
At last I have my Object d’art
But I didn’t have to go quite that far
I could have stopped off in town.
Got one for only half a crown.
And of course less bus fare.
Too late now but I don’t care
Look at me. How I digress
Gosh this is a bloody mess
I am supposed to be writing about an orange
I must rhyme it with a park named Gorringe.
Else everyone will stop and say
You didn’t make that rhyme today.
Now leave me please I need some time
I have to write this bloody rhyme.