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Pickin' Thems Blueberries
I wen' a pickin' blueberries today
The weather was serene,
I looked over rods of gold
And a lucious field of green.
Down the path I a went
Looking for patches of blue,
It was gettin' real darn hot
Clothes a stickin' like glue.
Went through bushes
Got stabbed by thorns,
My legs got all scatched up
If I wore pants, they would have been torn.
I stopped on the side of the path
To pick some raspberries,
Not a blue patch in sight
Empty containers, I did carries.
Then out of nowhere, I did see
I struck the pot of gold,
Pickin' thems blueberries
Over rocks I had rolled.
I had come to a full stop
By gigantic mounds of blue,
Pickin' thems blueberries
They're all mine, sorry there's none for you.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Aug.15/2005
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