Oh the difficulties lying
Before people who are trying
To create a pretty garden
Round the back,
When it's full of weeds and concrete
And a shed where local cats meet,
Cast-off toys and something nasty
In a sack.
Wooden fences weakly leaning
And the gutters all need cleaning
Thick brambles have completely
Run amok.
Dandelions and tall thistles,
Ancient brooms without their bristles,
Two rusty bikes and over all –
The stubborn dock.
We've assembled spade and barrow,
But the side path is too narrow
To wheel out tons of rubbish
For the tip.
Through the house we'll have to take it
In large buckets. Can we make it
Trailing mud and sand and debris
To the skip?
Now the first stage is completed
And we're used to being treated
To advice from know-all experts
From next door.
As we wrestle with the trellis
And a window gets a near miss
We begin to wonder what is
All this for?
But green shoots are just appearing
And we know that we are gearing
Up to add the final touches
To the plot.
Our bad backs are slowly healing
And our blisters pinkly peeling,
Whilst the bay tree's thriving in its
New clay pot.
Dare we dream about the flowers
Which will bloom in secret bowers,
And the fountains that will soothe our
Sunburnt toes?
Or do we guess this garden-tending
Is a chore that's never-ending?
Let's creep back into the house and
Have a doze.