O Cauliflower! my Cauliflower! our year of growth is done,
Nature has weather’d every leaf, the veggie we grew has come,
The day is near, the money I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady cart, carrying so much it’s shocking;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bruised splotches of brown,
Where on the ground my Flower lies,
Fallen down, down, down.
O Cauliflower! my Cauliflower! to you the dirt still clings;
Rise up—for you the bag is flung—for you the church bell rings,
For you the bills and rusted coins—for you the markets a-waiting,
For you they call, the demanding mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Cauliflower! dear flower!
This hand beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the ground,
You’ve fallen soiled and dead.
My Cauliflower does not answer, its buds are wilted brown,
My flower does not feel my hand, its life no longer around,
The cart has arrived safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor crates comes in with veggies won;
Exult O shops, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the grounds my Flower lies,
Fallen soiled and dead.
Link to image found here.
I DON’T OWN “OH CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!” JUST THIS PARODY
Here’s a little parody of Walt Whitman’s “Oh Captain! my Captain!” that pays homage to this underappreciated vegetable. The idea is spawned from my US History class and one of the many inside jokes between my friends and I. Dedicated to “Prince of the Sins” and “Pineappleisswag”!
Also, excuse my inability to follow the original rhythm and syllable count. Sue me, it’s a parody.