A Saturday Morning Suburban Lament
Oh, from what demented mind was born
A thing so pointless as a lawn?
Surely some old eccentric lord
In a mansion, born both rich and barmy,
Who could so lavishly afford
A mighty artful minion army
Of sowers of seed and pullers of weed
Of mowers of grass and spreaders of feed
That could do for him each filthy deed
And meet the lawns fortnightly need.
But we, suburban lowly born,
Must perforce do all this on our own
Lest our green and lifeless lawn
Become like a meadow, overgrown.
Oh, from what demented mind was born
A thing so pointless as a lawn?
© Barry Freeman – May 4th 2020
Copyright © Barry Freeman | Year Posted 2021
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