Orange

I think there is no finer fruit, Than the humble orange, You can turn it into juice, Or make a flavoured lozenge.

Orange

You know what i have found? that my verse is bound, by that "orange" sound! And yet this is profound a poem of that round zesty fruit that's crowned the poet's nightmare fruit.

Orange

Let's all sing a song of praise To that marvellous fruit the orange. Its vitamins are sucked from it To put in Haliborange.