Gardeners Lament

The weeds that grow upon the lawn Continue growing when they’re shorn Though treated with a herbicide It’s no surprise that none have died The chemicals that you apply Should make them shrivel up and die But only seem to feed and nourish Makes them grow and makes them flourish Don’t sit there feeling all forlorn Regarding such a sickly lawn There’s one solution guaranteed To eradicate, that awful weed Get up, go out, put on your coat Buy yourself a nanny goat © John W Fenn 21-08-2009