The Quince

In the style of Oliver Bailey, in memoriam 2016

‘Planting’ Grandpa Oliver in the orchard

Given the choice of quince or perry pear,

I knew what Oliver would say were he there--

“Knobbly, bumpy, and sour – that's me.

O bury me under that young quince tree.”

“Although the point is somewhat moot,

If I'm to be planted with a fruit,

Since it needs lots of sugar and is eaten with cheese

O bury me under that quince tree please.  

“From the moment of birth a man's days are numbered;

Spiritually speaking, I've never slumbered

So I fully expect to be raised back a prince -

For the sake of the rhyme, make it the quince.  

“Think of me fondly and with affection,

Especially when eating some quince confection,

Save some for me in future to taste

So I'll know my old bones didn't go to waste.

“Paradise for me will be here in a jiff,

I'll be fit, young and strong, and sporting a quiff.

Just make sure you are all there to meet me,

And for now do your best to plant me neatly.

“I'll have vigor and vim and a spring in my step,

I'll woo Vera afresh with poems and pep,

She'll be unable to resist the modified me

and we'll be together for eternity.”

So dear Grandpa, we say our last goodbye here,

We know that “Hello, Welcome Back!” is near,

You'll think it funny to eat a piece of yourself,

So we'll keep a jar of quince jam on the shelf.