Golden-skinned, delicate, bright,
Wondrous of texture and hue,
Bathed in a soft, sunny light,
Pearled with a silvery dew.
Fair as a flower to the view,
Ripened by summer's soft heat,
Basking beneath Heaven's blue,--
This is the Pumpkin of Pete.
Peter consumed day and night,
Pumpkin in pie or in stew;
Hinted to Cook that she might
Can it for winter use, too.
Pumpkin croquettes, not a few,
Peter would happily eat;
Knowing content would ensue,--
This is the Pumpkin of Pete.
Everything went along right,
Just as all things ought to do;
Till Peter,--unfortunate wight,--
Married a girl that he knew.
Each day he had to pursue
His runaway Bride down the street,--
So her into prison he threw,--
This is the Pumpkin of Pete.