Oh, those melons! If he’s able,
We’re to have a feast, so nice!
One goes to the abbot’s table,
All of us get each a slice.
How go on your flowers? None double?
Not one fruit-sort can you spy?
Strange! And I, too, at such trouble
Keep them close-nipped on the sly!
There’s a great text in Galatians,
Once you trip on it, entails