O how I love to consume a satsuma!
A satsuma a day leads to good humour.

To obtain one I would fight a lion or puma
or risk the revenge of wrathful Montezuma.

For the sweet taste of just one satsuma
I would listen to a concerto of tuba,
learn the three major dialects of Yoruba,
read the minutes of the 1906 Duma.

The merest rumour of a buried satsuma
would see me turn fructo-archaeologist/exhumer.

Juicy-sweet segmental sensation!
Luscious litmus-testing, citrus-besting Christmas elation!
O how I love to consume a Satsuma!

It is also easier to rhyme than orange.