Parody
Come live with me and be my love,
And gardening pleasures I shall prove.
We'll watch the farmer in his fields
And envy him his golden yields.
I'll let you sift out all the rocks
And shoo invading blackbird flocks
Who steal the seed where e'er it falls
And grab your hat with raucous calls.
You'll help me dig a bed for roses
And kill the slug where he reposes.
You'll weep as loam so rich and fertile
Is commandeered by creeping myrtle.
Coveralls of strongest weaves,
Thorn protective leather sleeves,
Felt lined boots to beat the cold,
We'll buy the best of all that's sold.
A belt of shiny metal studs,
Sharpened shears to clip the buds;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.
The gardening swains shall dance and sing
The day that you accept my ring.
If these delights thy mind shall move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
For Parody contest Rec'd 10th place
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2010
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