The Pear Tree of Ribbeck

Of Sir Ribbeck of Ribbeck of Havelland,
Each year its harvest was the same:
Ripe yellow pears when autumn came.
Beneath the tree at noon each day
Sir Ribbeck gave sweet pears away.
"Come have a pear!" his friendly voice
Would urge a lad. "My pears are choice."
Or, for a lass with special care
He would select the nicest pear.
And so the quiet years went by.
Sir Ribbeck, grown old, prepared to die.
That year again when autumn came
The mellow harvest was the same.
Sir Ribbeck made his last request:
"When I am laid to final rest,
I want a pear placed by my side."
In three days, Sir Ribbeck died. 

image author: J.Braune

The solemn mourners stood around
His coffin at the burial ground.
The children wept. "Now no one cares.
There's no one here to give us pears."
But they were wrong, because their friend
Made sure his bounty would not end.
Knowing his son was miserly
And would not share the fruitful tree,
He'd wisely planned what should be done
To leave the pears to everyone.
And from the pear placed at his side
By his good servants when he died,
In three years' time a strong young tree
Stood by his grave for all to see.

And as harvest years went by,
The tree spread out against the sky,
Until one autumn as of old,
The tree was rich with pears of gold,
And when a lad came by that way,
Among the leaves they'd hear a voice:
"Come have a pear! My pears are choice." 
and so the hand still blessed the
Ribbeck of Ribbeck of Havelland.

Theodor Fontane