There is a lovely tree I know
Whose branches hang so sweet and low,
Whose apples are so crisp and tasty:
I savor them, am never hasty.
He tells me no pony but I
Can be the apple of his eye,
For he is mine, and mine alone,
No matter what AJ intones.

I love to climb upon his trunk
And pick some thick bough as my bunk.
I'll lie within his crown all day;
I'm rocked to sleep when branches sway.
And sometimes when I feel like rutting
I'll find a limb that is out jutting.