A Poem In Sympathy With Other Gardeners

"Made Up While Planting The Garden"

By Rachel

Oh I'm marking out the rows

With my heels and with my toes,

It'll be a garden of prodigious size,

But I must forget I'm treading

In manure Dad's been spreading,

For I'm stamping down and squishing old cow pies.

Oh it's good for its nutrition,

I've no doubt of that position,

But the mucky brown just doesn't smell like dirt,

So I try to think of seeds,

But I just envision weeds,

And I breathe with nose quite under my own shirt.

Oh they call it "Garden Gold"

"Your increase is double-fold!"

And a host of other dubious things beside,

But I still am stomping here,

With aroma rather queer,

And if I said "I love it!", I'd have lied!