DRIED APPLE PIES
Author Unknown
I loate, abhor, detest, despise,
Abominate dried-apple pies,
I like good bread, I like good meat,
Or anything that's fit to eat;
But of all poor grub beneath the skies,
The poorest is dreid apple pies.
Give me the toothache, or sore eyes,
But don't give me dried apple pies.
The farmer takes his gnarliest fruit,
'Tis wormy, bitter, and hard, to boot;
He leaves the hulls to make us cough,
And don't take half the peeling off.
Then on a dirty cord 'tis strung
And in a garret window hung,
And there it serves as roost for flies,
Until it's made up into pies.
Tread on my corns, or tell me lies,
But don't pass me dried-apple pies.
Spring & Summer Holiday Greetings
ST. PATRICK'S DAY GREETINGS: (with my Irish roots)
IN CELEBRATION OF EASTER
INDEPENDENCE DAY
Related Family Links

Arline's Ancestors
Holiday Greetings
GRAPHICS CREATED BY:
Music: Puff the Magic Dragon
MIDI DataBase
© 1998-present
All rights reserved.

Counter added 12-30-03
197