Fruitman

Fruitman, Fruitman, did'n' I see yu lass' week,
ridin' up an' down ova dare on coopah street.
Dem plums I ate wuz too tart fa' me, ya know plums
an' grapes iz mosley whut i eats.
Lack 'em yella an' juicy red, lack ma appa's hard an' sweet.
I'm afraid de peaches did'n' yeal a good crop dis yair,
de bite wuz awful hard on ma parshuls an' ma airs.
an' de waddah milon yu sole' wuz jist alil' too ripe,
but dem tandareens man, dey wuz jist rite.
Fruitman, say Fruitman, got any nana's dis week,
saw ma doctuh yestiddy an' ma tassium' bit weak.
Give me two dozen nana's an' a poun' a green grapes,
add in dem plums, oh, haw bout sum dates.
Jist add up de rest, yu know whut tu do, put tit on ma tab
an' I'll see ya real soon.

by Amelia A. Allen-Ray

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