It is shaped like a cucumber
They can be real stinky
They come in all sorts of sizes
Some are large, some are dinky

It's covered and filled with juice
The skin is covered with bumps
If one can't please, find another
They can also be found between buns

Some are stiff, some are limp
Some can float, most are sinking
This poem was my ode to pickles
So what the hell were you thinking?