There once was a lady named Pam;
Who was not especially glam.
Seeds were planted in June,
With hopes for cotton bolls soon.
At least that was on her program.
A flower opened July first;
She was so happy that she could burst.
But the guide books all say,
The boll will open in 60 days.
The time spent waiting was the worst.
The plants grew tall and strong;
Flowers faded and bolls came along.
Their pretty round spheres,
Were something to cheer.
Still closed, their torture prolonged.
Then early one bright August morn;
She was anything but forlorn.
What did her eyes see,
Four days shy of sixty?
Seven open bolls, the plants were adorned!