Ode To A Turnip by Lt William Bush
Transcribed by Michele


Of all the mem'ries from my youth
And carefree days gone by,
Upon my honour, and in truth,
I'll tell what I decry.

It wasn't school, nor sitting still
In parlours overdone;
Nor being called "Dear Little Will,"
Though that was SO not fun.

And it was not so foul
How the children oft would tease:
The way my voice would growl --
*I* thought someday it might please...

And helping Uncle Woody
In his blacksmith shop was fine;
I got myself all sooty,
And still no-one beat my `hind.

I never learnt to swim, and thus
To water I'm averse;
But try I'll not to make a fuss
`Cause one thing's even worse:

The thing to which I most object,
The thing which I most hate,
There's nothing makes me more upset
Than turnips on my plate.

I don't care if you serve them boil'd
Or fry them crisp and hot;
I don't care if they're fresh or spoil'd --
I'd rather eat horse snot.

I care not if I'd starving be
In desert vast and dry,
It matters neither way to me --
I'd rather eat a fly!

Tho' Father says to always do
The thing that you dislike,
If turnips they would serve you,
Save yourself, man -- take a hike!

So here I am to proselytise
Now grown up as I be:
Don't let yourself be traumatised --
From turnips you must flee!

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