September

Dear apple, on your branch,
please fall into my hat.
For if I take you off the tree,
They'll not be pleased with that!

Apples red and apples green,
please fall down upon the ground.
For if I pick you off the tree,
I cannot say how you've been found.

Apples here and apples there,
please fall into my hand.
My little sisters stand and stare
and wait for you to land.

Hips and haws and thistles tall
stand all around the tree.
All will soon be picked and stored.
Is there not just one for me?

Apples, apples, everywhere,
please let me have just one,
and just two more, please tree,
then September will be done.