By Your Fruits by MMario, Amos and Willa

By your fruits shall ye be known
Whether drupe or pome or berry
Be they grain or nuts or melons
If they give us food for thought

Ye shall reap as you have sown,
Whacky, kind or evil very,
And the fruits that you are sellin'
Tell us truly what is what!

Gather up the fruit you've grown
Wilde oats or Queen Anne's Cherry
Borne on branch or stem or vine
stew to jelly in your pot

Thus the oldest air is known--
Not Greenfleeves or London Derry
The most ancient song in time
Is that Jelly Roll, by Gott!

And when winter winds are blowin,
And are hearts are full of care we
Will recall what you were tellin
And be happy with our lot.

Yes the chill that Winter's blown
Will not stop our making Merry!
We'll not pause for kings or felons,
While the Jelly Rolling's hot!

When the laden tables groan
We will sip a Christmas sherry
In our warm and cosy dwellin
And then dance a wild gavotte

What care we for hearts of stone?
Those whose tonguesa are barbed and serried?
Those who bother us with sellin'?
Dance with us, oh, these shall not!

Where the wild Imagines roam,
Fueled by grape and love and perry,
We abandon cruel melan-
Choly for a wilder trot!

And we shall not dance alone.
Let no one be sedentary,
And the glorious voices swellin'
Make this place a hallowed spot

Yea, though hearts be hard as stone,
Full of gloom extraordinary,
There will be no use rebellin',
Pure enjoyment is our plot.

Wandering through the world alone,
Finding none to share out story
Weary of the world's pell-melling,
With our hearts and spirits shot,

Come as though to spirit home,
To the end of ponderance hoary,
Where the heart alone is telling,
Jelly roll, and sweet Gavotte!