I spent some time a-berrying,

This pleasant July morn,

And found myself compary-ing

My run-ins with the thorn.


The blueberry ’tis a gentle bush,

Its branches smooth and spineless.

And if you need give them a push,

You’ll get your berries painless.


The raspberry, now, ’tis a bit more tough,

Its prickles middling bitchy.

Reach on in for fruit enough,

You’ll wind up tol’rable itchy.


The blackberry, tho’s, a vicious cuss,

All hooks and barbs right wicked.

And after all that bloody fuss,

You’ll wonder WHO got pickéd!


But snag or scrape or stinging scratch,

I really can’t complain-o.

For when I start to eat my catch,

B’Jove, it’s worth the pain-o!


Not Keats, perhaps, but it sums up my thoughts pretty nicely if I do say so myself.