Picking up Paw-Paws

Pickin' up paw-paws, put 'em in your pocket,
Pickin' up paw-paws, put 'em in your pocket,
Pickin' up paw-paws, put 'em in your pocket,
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch!

No one ever told us what paw-paws were when we were kids, but according to one of our favorite childhood songs (frequently performed during the Jim Haislip-and-kids sing-a-longs), we were supposed to be picking them up and putting them into our pockets--that is after we all gaily headed down yonder to the patch to fetch the things to begin with, and apparently this was such a fun-filled, happy activity that individuals generally sang the whole live-long time they were doing it. Sorta like picking cotton.

Or perhaps this was intended as one of those sneaky "instructional" songs for dolts who keep forgetting what to do with the freakin' paw-paws once they pick them up. You know the type. They dutifully pick up the paw-paw, just like they're supposed to, but then they just stand there looking like a dumb heifer, and you have to hiss for, like, the hundredth time, "Put it in your pocket, you moron!" So perhaps one kind soul, whose name has long been forgotten, placed those instructions into a snappy little tune, so even stupid people can remember what to do when they pick up those gosh-darned paw-paws.

Where, oh where is dear little Susie?
Where, oh where is dear little Susie?
Where, oh where is dear little Susie?
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch!

Come on, boys, let's go find her,
Come on, boys, let's go find her,
Come on, boys, let's go find her,
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch!

Okay, now here's what I don't get. Who's Susie? Okay, I can understand if she's a mischievous little toddler, taken to wandering off when the rest of the family is off picking the paw-paws and shoving them left and right into their pockets (and singing), but why the hell does it take an entire posse of males to find her? Or, as is the case with males in general, are they just trying to get out of work, and leave the women to the paw-paw pickin' while the boys make some excuse about finding Susie but are really heading back to the house to watch the basketball game? (And all the while, dear little Susie is probably ten feet away, sitting in a paw-paw bush somewhere eating dirt or something.)

Of course, Susie may be one of them there...um...trampy girls...and uses the paw-paw patch to entice the men-folk for her nightly trysts. No wonder the males all seem so gung-ho about finding her all the time.

I did a little research on paw-paws and found out that they're really fruit about the size of large pears, and supposedly quite tasty, from what I've read. So, why aren't we seeing paw-paws at the local grocery story alongside oranges and bananas and apples?

Well, duh...it's pretty clear. With pockets as the preferred collection receptacles over bushels, wheelbarrows, or pickup trucks, paw-paw farmers probably ain't exactly scoring much of a return on the harvest. I mean, think about it..."Hey look...here comes Bubba. I think he's got three this time. Boy's gonna go far."

So I guess paw-paw farmers don't exactly get rich at their trade. But at least they got themselves a happy little song to sing so they don't feel so bad about it....