Organic
I have dug my potatoes
And set off my rocket
I’ve coiled my straight hose
And oiled the sprocket
On my wind powered mower
I have spread my own dung
I’ve composted my pants
And my praises are sung
From Whitehaven to Hants
As an organic grower
Of green veggie delights
My footprint is minor
I love insects and mites
I find nothing is finer
Than mud on my carrots
My carpet, my linen,
My wife, my parrots,
My lino, my children,
In each nook and cranny
Mud on the sofa, the bed
And on Granny
In fact all that is left is mud and me
The rest couldn’t hack it
They’ve quit the country
Written by David C Johnson © May 2011