Song of the Radish

The radish sang in the sycamore tree,
When you want a salad just call on me,
Slice me and dice me, make me a flower,
Grate me, castrate me, for over an hour.
Sing me sad songs from days of long ago.
Play me old records on the radio,
Mime me Buddy Holly or vintage Parton Dolly,
Make all the little bells clang in my trolley.

Copyright © Max Scratchmann. All Rights Reserved