Shimmying up the tree, scrumping on my mind. Eve’s scold scuppers my plucking fingers. My boyfriend skedaddles, I slide down to earth.

Surprisingly the orchardist’s daughter proffers ripe fruit, suggests I snag a bite. Masticating, juices seep down my throat.

Sliding down her knickers, Eve’s sex glistens in the sun. Boyfriends and apples banished from our minds. The knowledge tree’s fruit such a seductive siren, forevermore my tongue will slide through scrumpy tasting snatches.

She simpers sweetly, smearing my sultry face in scrumptious goo. I’m now her sweetheart, the apple of her eye.

Heigh-ho, the derry-o, A-scrumping we will go.