I wandered lonely as a bottle
That floats along in solitude
When all at once I saw tomatoes
Come bobbing past: "What's happening, dude?"
They called to me; I said at once,
"I think we're in a place called Hunt's."
Continuous as the stars that shine
Tomatoes floating everywhere;
Why did the factory make you swim,
What sort of river brought you there,
Dispatched from your ancestral vine,
Straight onto the production line?
Tomatoes! You are innocent
Of devious harvest plans to fetch up
Enormous quantities of you
The end goal being loads of ketchup;
And after you are minced and throttled,
In boiling vats, you shall be bottled.
O Hunt's! so fussy, as you say
About your wee vine-ripened friends
Tomatoes sailing through your maw
The saucy means to Huntsian ends;
How do I know these things are true?
Recycled bottle. Déjà vu.
[With apologies to William Wordsworth, who was inspired by some lovely daffodils, since he was born too early for Hunt's tomatoes.]
I got the actual scan from Life, December 20 1963 (at Google Books) but I actually found this ad thanks to my friend Thomas MacEntee who kindly pointed me towards Vintage Ads; this ad was there but it looked a little fuzzy, so I scanned it elsewhere. A really big version is here.
The Crazy Suburban Mom. She has some amazing ads today, ranging from the frightening to the fabulous - so please go visit!