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Edgar Guest - Raisin Pie
Work rating: Low

There`s a heap of pent-up goodness 
in the yellow bantam corn,
And I sort o` like to linger 
round a berry patch at morn;
Oh, the Lord has set our table 
with a stock o` things to eat
An` there`s just enough o` bitter 
in the blend to cut the sweet,
But I run the whole list over, 
an` it seems somehow that I
Find the keenest sort o` pleasure 
in a chunk o` raisin pie.

There are pies that start the water 
circulatin` in the mouth;
There are pies that wear the flavor of
the warm an` sunny south;
Some with oriental spices spur 
the drowsy appetite
An` just fill a fellow`s being 
with a thrill o` real delight;
But for downright solid goodness 
that comes drippin` from the sky
There is nothing quite the equal of 
a chunk o` raisin pie.

I`m admittin` tastes are diff`runt, 
I`m not settin` up myself
As the judge an` final critic of 
the good things on the shelf.
I`m sort o` payin` tribute 
to a simple joy on earth,
Sort o` feebly testifyin` to its 
lasting charm an` worth,
An` I`ll hold to this conclusion 
till it comes my time to die,
That there`s no dessert that`s finer 
than a chunk o` raisin pie.
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