Have you ever seen a banana blush?
That golden delight colored pink?
A shyer fruit you’d never meet,
One moment glorious, another moment mush.
I met a banana once,
Gerald was his name.
The blushiest banana for miles around,
He could speak, and yet, still make not a sound.
If you smiled, or talked to him:
His mustache twitched,
His nose would itch.
To his face, the blood would rush,
Giving him the pinkest, blushiest blush.
What’s a poor, poor, banana,
Like Gerald to do?
Maybe grow a beard,
And move to Timbuktu.