When grandma wished to keep her fruit
Her apples she would take
And put them on a bed of straw
At rest, but wide awake;
But newer days have newer modes,
And now, that it may keep,
They give an orange opiates
And sing it off to sleep.
And they're telling bedtime stories to bananas,
And rocking little raspberries to rest.
They will dope an apple silly,
And it wakes in Piccadilly
From a beauty sleep that makes it look its best.
It seems a heartless kind of trick
To play on helpless pears;
To lull them off to slumberland
And soothe their nervous cares,
Only to wake them up again,
Weeks after, on a plate,
On the day of execution
To announce their cruel fate.
But they're telling bedtime stories to bananas,
And putting plums to by-by on a ship,
And they never have a notion
They have been across the ocean,
So they even miss the pleasure of the trip.
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