And Then a Miracle, a Squash (I Can Never Grow Zuccha Anymore)

I’m gonna hide
If she don’t leave me a gourd
I’m gonna run – away


’cause you can never grow zuccha anymore

Listen. Does this sound familiar? You wake up every morning, walk through the garden every day, spend your nights staring at the moon,
just passing the time away.
Life is so lonely like a dirt-covered pepper without a wash.
Then a miracle, a squash.

And that’s called “glad.”

Now my garden is a good garden
and she loves me with all her soil.
But she said I was too greedy to have a harvest
and the squash and I would have to recoil.

And no matter how I ranted and raved, I screamed, I pleaded, I cried
she told me it was not really a worthwhile harvest,
but only my green-thumbed pride.

And that’s called “bad.”

(Never grow zuccha anymore)

Now if that’s happened to you, don’t let this.
I pulled weeds and hoed
and watered them every night.
Though she couldn’t promise me a yield
I was sure I was right.

And you know something funny??
I forgot that squash right away.
Instead, I remember picking tomatoes
and hearing my garden say…

(Hush, little vegan, don’t you cry)
(Garden won’t go away)


(You can never grow zuccha anymore)

I can never grow zuccha anymore

Listen, I’m not finished…
Do you ever get that feeling and wanna rake and till her? Do it now-
Show her you love her. Don’t do to your garden what I did to mine. She grew so lonely
in the end. Angels picked her for a friend.


And I can never grow zuccha (never) anymore

And that’s called “sad.”

I like the Shangri-Las.
This was written by Jerry Grimaldi.
Although I can’t be certain, I will assume that due to the fact he was an eye-tie, Fran and Sam liked his work.
Miraculously, a single summer squash plant grew back and I found the above, yellow yield.
Get it? Too bad.