Garden poetry

So fellow gardeners
have you ever written about gardening? or maybe put down a poem or some verse about this wonderful pastime/hobby?
Now is your chance
It does not have to be serious it can be like a Pam Ayres poem which is as you know full of amusing verse but it`s your choice.
So take it away who`s first
0
Posts
Maybe you
Could give us a clue.
It would be rude
For another dude
To be glued
To the head
Of your thread.
A dude with a poetry attitude it`s clear to see
i shall explain i aim to please
the answer that follows is short and sweet
the number of lines could be two as in number of feet
but flow as you feel with ease & delight
poetry about the garden is
the header in sight.
I have no literary skills. My shopping list is the height of my creativity. And is monotonously repetitive.
Here though, for those who are old enough to snigger at it, is something you may remember from English literature classes in school.
Thomas Edward Brown. 1830–1897
My Garden
A Garden s a lovesome thing, God wot!
Rose plot,
Fringed pool,
Fern'd grot—
The veriest school
Of peace; and yet the fool
Contends that God is not—
Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool?
Nay, but I have a sign;
'Tis very sure God walks in mine.
My garden is more your fern'd grot style.
Soon come the day
whilst we sit and pray
when bees and butterflies play
In the gardens we've planted
We cannot wait to get started
The grass will grow,
The seeds we will sow,
We share what we know
And that's how nature will go.
(I have no idea if this even counts but I just made it up on the spot!)
New to all this gardening lark,
often up the wrong tree I bark.
Trying with all of my might,
to learn what's wrong and what is right.
All in a dither when I direct sow,
....seedlings or weeds........I don't know!
What is this and what is that,
if you folk can't help me......I'll eat my hat!
Planting pals and flowering friends,
your knowledge of gardening never ends.
Thankyou for sharing it with me,
one day, in return, maybe I'll help someone.......we will have to wait and see
I love my garden it’s a joy
I tend it with great care
And all the plants they bloom and grow
It’s beauty it doth share.
No shrub or flower causes grief
No bugs or weeds annoy
The seasons each provide a thrill
So can someone tell me why.
Despite such careful pruning
And feeding with such care
My damn Wisteria just wont flower
It simply isn’t fair.
An adaptation of the Barnsley Anthem to suit penniless gardeners. (And aren't we all.)
We’re all dahn in t’ green 'ouse where muck slarts on t’ winders,
We’ve used all us coil up and we’re reight dahn to t’ cinders;
If bum-bailiff comes ’e’ll never finnd us,
Cos we’re all dahn in t’ green 'ouse where muck slarts on t’ winders.
2
We’re all dahn in t’ green 'ouse where muck slarts on t’ winders,
Door-’oil’s wide oppen as it’s oft bin afooer;
Fire-’oil it’s nearly reight chock full o’ cinders,
An t’ wife she’s aht callin’ wi’ t’ neighbour next dooer,
Cos we’re all dahn in t’ green 'ouse where muck slarts on t’ winders.
3
We’re all dahn in t’ green 'ousewhere muck slarts on t’ winders,
Door-’oil’s blocked up wi’ ashes an’ cinders;
When t’ chap comes for t’ rent, will ’e be able to finnd us?
Ma comes wi’ t’ rollin’ pin, Pa wi’ t’ berlinders,
When we’re all dahn in t’ green 'ouse where muck slarts on t’ winders.
winders = windows
bum-bailiff = court official empowered to seek entry and remove goods
’oil/coil = hole/coal
slarts = dashes
callin’ (to rhyme with Stalin) = gossiping
berlinders = bellows
Tune is Ach du liebe Augustin much used in Britain for children’s and bawdy songs.
Apologies.