The Fig Plucker’s son

So we were having dinner yesterday and Sean decides to share with us the latest tongue twister that has been making the rounds in the schoolyard.

It goes:

I’m not the Fig Plucker
nor the Fig Plucker’s son
But I shall pluck figs
till the Fig Plucker comes

Quite a witty little Chaucerian ditty I’m sure you’ll agree. Mark and I thought it was rather amusing, although the two of them were rather disgruntled by my ability to recite it verbatim regardless of speed. No cunning linguist jokes please.

And then later on, when I was doing the dishes, Sean sidles up next to me and whispers “Psst Mom, you know there’s ALSO a really RUDE version of that rhyme… you say Pig F…” and I’m like “SEAN!!! DUH!!!!!” (or in Singlish – UH BUH THEN!)

Now, to be fair, I don’t know whether to be tickled by Sean’s naivete or miffed that perhaps he thought his Mom so obtuse as to require an explanation of the witty epithet!

p.s. the photo above is of two plums, but that’s another rhyme altogether!

2 thoughts on “The Fig Plucker’s son

  1. Am I getting that mixed up wth the pleasant f—er? Or Mary Jane Hunt? I’ll call you tomorrow at my 1000. xox

  2. i’m not a fig plucker
    or a fig plucker’s son.
    i’ve never plucked figs
    and i’ll never pluck one.
    but there’s one thing i think
    you fig pluckers should know;
    a fig plucker always reaps what he sowes.

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