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 take some thick branch as a bunk.
I'll lie within his reach all day;
I'm rocked to sleep when branches sway.
And sometimes when I feel like rutting
I'll find a branch that is out jutting.