A Gardener’s Lament

Something topical for this time of year!

The Gardener’s Lament

A greenhouse full of aphids, slimy slug snot on my cabbage,
I wait with pellets ready, for the snails’ nocturnal savage.
Pods wriggling with maggots, baby carrots full of holes
My lawn is like a mini alp, from all the bloomin’ moles.

Those icebergs, oh so pretty, with their nibbled, patterned borders,
My garden is a playground for insatiable marauders.
So I am trounced – defeated in this herbivorous melee.
Reluctantly throw in the trowel they’ve won, they’ve got their way.

I’ve done with Baby Bio. With Bone and Fish and Blood,
Caterpillars on my caulies, and BLIGHT on a lonesome spud.
Rot blankets my young brussels, black flies crawl over kale,
So hoe and spade and garden fork are sold at the car boot sale.

My veg I buy from Morrisons, it comes home clean, unsoiled.
Well-scrubbed and chopped, in plastic bags, just waiting to be boiled.
It’s probably imported but with that I have no morals,
The dinner’s cooking in a jiffy, while I sit on my laurels

My sink is always dazzling, and my plughole’s clear and flushing.
No need for sucking plungers – my waste pipe’s always gushing.
I revel in the time I save, no strimming, digging, hoeing.
It gives me chance, to lounge around, and write this little poem.