Fruit sits ripe, ready to eat, then some poor schlub dumps sugar all over it; They say it’s better, they’ve sweetened the thing, I want to smack them, they’ve ruined my fruit.

Guarded by thousands like I was gold, And I can never go old, What am I?

Tell me now, without a frown. What grows up while growing down?

Even though we sing that its days are over, Every one has its day. Maybe that’s why they’re so beloved A bestie always up for a nap, drive, or play.

Part of the seven sins of man, sadly, I’m the one we glorify the most; If a squirrel stores nuts for winter, it’s the norm, but if it took them all, we’d ask questions; Why not apply this to man, this trait keeps them with the upper hand;