Father Pickle
“You’re old Father Pickle,”
the Cucumber said,
“And your surface is covered in lumps
but they say that your quite good when covered in bread
could you tell me the reason? I’m stumped.”
“In my youth,” Father Pickle replied to his son
“My skin was both silky and smooth,
But now as you’ve said I am covered with bumps
And with breading I seem much less crude.”
“You’re old Father Pickled as I mentioned before
And your taste has become very sour.
Why, you pucker the lips by the dozens, therefore,
could you tell me what gives you the power?”
“In my cucumber days,” Father Pickle replied,
“My taste was considered quite bland;
It was thanks to this vinegar ointment I tried
That my taste now’s in such high demand.”
“You’re old Father Pickle and I’m warrant to say
that you spend all your days in a pool;
Yet your crunch is as crisp as a cool winter day,
Is that something they taught you in school?”
“In my youth” Father Pickle replied once again,
“I was fashioned to be very loud.
Twas my only defense while locked up in a jar
And I never stopped making that sound.”
“You’re old Father Pickle and I think you’d agree
That you’re quite out of place in a salad;
Yet to burgers you offer your service for free
Tell me Father what makes this claim valid?”
“Enough of these question you Cucumber brat!
As it is I’ll be late to the bar.
Be off with you now or I’m warning you Son
I’ll stuff your smart butt in a jar!”