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Poem - The Perfect Spring Garden

posted May 3, 2014, 2:49 AM by Peppy Bristlebrush

By Lina Willowwood  


Me neighbours all have tended lawns, with flowers in the spring  
But when I see their loving care, I feel a bitter sting  
Me garden is a barren plot, devoid of lush and life  
Except them weeds that grow so thick, they broke me shearing knife  

A year ago, I saw the larks and swallows bring the sun
I brought me shovels, hoes and picks, and when the day was done
The weeds were gone, the lawn was flat, the beds were good to go
Now flowers, taters, berries, peas would find a home ter grow

With rain and sleet and drizzling drops, the seeds began ter sprout
The finest garden in the Shire, of that I had no doubt
The harvest would be grand this year, the flowers rich and strong
But nature soon resolved ter prove me dreams were naught but wrong

A lazy morn I woke to sounds of laughter from me yard
A drove of shrews ran through me beds, they partied long and hard
They dug the ground, they ate the veg, they wagged their icky tails
They cheered upon a slimy pair of flower-eating snails

I tried ter chase the icky wicked creatures and their spawn
But from above another foe descended on me lawn
A flock of crows decided it was time ter stop to eat
And sure enough, them found me home-grown berries fresh and sweet

The sun was shining bright and clear, but horrors it revealed
What once had been me pride and joy, now looked a battlefield
But scarier than cackling crows, than shrews exchanging hugs
The fence gave way to hordes of large and hungry slugs and bugs

I called upon some bounders from the local cheerful inn
They charged into me property with much ado and din
But soon I found them digging through me lawn with gleeful roars
Apparently me ground was full of rare and shiny ores

Between the shrews and bugs and slugs, my vegs were all but gone
Me yard a maze of tunnels deep, where bounders worked ’til dawn
And looking at it all, I couldn’t help but feel bereft
When sturdy bounder ponies ate the flowers that were left

When desperate the times may be, all efforts should be used
I hope yer understand me acts, that I may be excused
I called upon a band of rowdy hobbits from the south
They came with looks of zestful zeal, with bagpipes in their mouth

Now did yer ever hear the sound of twenty pipes at once?
The garden shook, the darkness fell, the shrews just had to bounce
The crows lost all their feathers while the madness took the bugs
And down the road, the bounders ran off crying with the slugs

Me neighbours all have tended yards, with flowers in the spring
But no and nay and never more, I feel that bitter sting
Me garden may be full of weeds, but that is grand for me
What better place ter greet the spring, with lazy naps and tea?


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