Snails

I was sat in the garden, just me, on my own,

and thoughts that came into my head

of seeds that I’d planted watered and fed

should show signs now of making a spread,

I’ve pulled out the weeds from each flowerbed,

and sprinkled on fish blood and bone,

I’ve raked and hoed round all that Ive sown,

there’s no sign of any display,

I’ve talked to each plant

“oh please little flower

let this be the hour

you will open and bloom just for me,

The rose the pansy, the little sweet pea

I would be delighted and so full of glee”

I wont be so lucky, for whats that I see?

A snail and a slug melee,

I see silver trails

Its them flaming snails

and slugs the size of the cat,

why can’t they eat weed

when they’re wanting to feed

to eat my plants there’s no need

one winked at me the cheeky brat

and his smirk was ever so wide,

he’s pushing his luck

if Ihad a duck

well he’d be eaten alive,

they think its alright to raid in the night

and feast by the light of the moon.

the monsters will go

with the help of my toe,

over the fence and real soon,

I was told tubs of beer

would keep it all clear,

and that’s not working I fear

Because they stagger about

they fight and they shout

like hooligans in full  gear,

then there is her next door

who’s a bit of a bore,

with what she has sown

and what she has grown

all that will come up next year.

well there will be nothing to match

my little patch

when I transplant these beast for sure

when over they go

to my friend Flo

and see if she brags next year.