Scraps of half remembered verse

Don't be too sure of that, Elegran.

Well done to brainy Gransnetters especially elegran for the poem. I will download it from google.

You probably got it right though!

Good for you, Elegran. I just remembered what it was and Googled it for the link. That's the lazy way to do it.

Here you go:-

SONG OF THE PRUNE
(Crumit / DeCosta)
Frank Crumit - c. 1928

La-la-la-la
La-la-la-la
Nowadays we often gaze
On women over fifty
Without the slightest trace
Of wrinkles on their face
Doctors go and take their dough
To make them young and nifty
But Doctors I defy
To tell me just why

No matter how young a prune may be
It's always full of wrinkles
We may get them on our face
Prunes get 'em every place
Prohibition worries us
But prunes don't sit and brood
For no matter how young a prune may be
It's always getting stewed

In the kingdom of the fruits
The prune is snubbed by others
And they are not allowed
To mingle with the crowd
Though they're never on display
With all their highbrow brothers
They never seem to mind
To this fact they're resigned

That no matter how young a prune may be
It's always full of wrinkles
Beauty treatments always fail
They've tried all to no avail
Other fruits are envious
Because they know real well
That no matter how young a prune may be
Hot water makes 'em swell

Baby prunes look like their dad
But not wrinkled quite as bad

Every day in every way
The world is getting better
We've even learned to fly
As days go passing by
But how about the poor old prune
His life is only wetter
No wonder he can't win
In the awful stew he's in

No matter how young a prune may be
He's always full of wrinkles
We may get them on our face
Prunes get 'em every place
Nothing ever worries them
Their life's an open book
But no matter how young a prune may be
It has a worried look

Prunes act very kind they say
When sickly people moan
But no matter how young a prune may be
It has a heart of stone

(Transcribed by Mel Priddle - October 2002)

Hasn't it gone quiet?

Should be "exact" day labour, not "demand".

Good comment on those Gransnetters who post o'er land and ocean without rest, and the others who only stand and wait.

For hhough read though. Add capitals where you think they ought to be.

For worls read world.

Snap Anno I took longer typing it in because I was trying to remember it all.

Brendawymms That is from Milton's sonnet on his blindness.

"when I consider how my life is spent
E'er half my life, in this dark worls and wide
and that one talent, which is death to hide,
lodged with me useless (hhough my soul more bent
to serve therewith my maker and present
My true account - lest he returning chide)
Does God demand day labour, light denied,
I fondly ask? but patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies "God does not need
either man's work, or His own gifts. who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best.
Thousands at his bidding speed
and post o'er land and ocean without rest.
they also serve who only stand , and wait."

That was from memory (!) I may not have it quite right.

Brenda: Milton, 'On his Blindness'

Hunt - the last two lines are a repetition of the first two.

My odd remembered bit of verse, and I would love to know where it comes from.....

There is a talent lodged in me useless though the soul more bent.

My favourite:- No matter how young a prune may be,
It's always covered in wrinkles.
We have wrinkles on our face,
A prune has wrinkles in every place..........
I know that is not the end but I can't remember any more!