All the grapes seem to grow under the vines and leaves;
I have to crawl on the ground, the fruit to retrieve.
I never met Mamie's man, but he couldn't have been too tall,
Our maybe he sent his kids to pick whenever they started to squall.
I really need a toddler next time that we pick grapes,
Or maybe I could try to train a family of apes.
The only thing that may be a problem with that plan,
Is I doubt that very many grapes would end up as jam.
The toddlers would drop them on the ground and not pick them up.
The apes would sit down on the job and on the fruit they'd sup.
Last year's batch of muscadine jam was a sight to behold;
It was a rather shocking green instead of a burnished gold.
Muscadine Madness was a sad joke of a jelly;
Even Santa wouldn't put that stuff in his belly.
This year I'll know better than to add any color magic;
The green hue of last year's jam was quite literally tragic.