Whatever Happened to Greengage Jam?

It came to me
Quite suddenly,
As I lay in my bed –
That wholesome taste
That one-time graced
Our slices of white bread.
Rich and sweet,
‘Twas quite a treat
But, like the Dublin tram,
It’s had its day,
Gone on its way –
The pot of greengage jam.

Look on the shelf
In shops yourself,
There’s jams of every flavour.
Kiwi, plum,
Chrysanthemum,
To sample and to savour.
Blue ones, red ones,
Hard-to-spread ones,
Elderflower and yam.
Oh yes, there’s lots
Of jars and pots,
But not of greengage jam.

When did they stop
This luscious crop?
Quite sudden, or in stages?
Did harvests fail
Through snow and hail?
What happened to greengages?
Was there a coup
In Katmandu?
A putsch in Surinam?
Is civil war
The reason for
The lack of greengage jam?

This wondrous fruit
Of great repute
Just vanished when we blinked.
One day, ‘twas here.
The next, I fear,
It must have gone extinct.
The IFA
Has naught to say,
It shuts up like a clam.
Oh, was it weeds,
Or foul, foul deeds,
Snuffed out our greengage jam?

Whate’er the cause,
It’s time to pause,
And doff our caps with piety,
And bow the head
To mourn the spread
That’s lost unto society.
Technology
Means naught to me,
You can’t eat texts or spam.
It’s quite a cost
That we have lost
The taste of greengage jam.