The gardener 

Tending green shoot

Nurture them grow

To hight of hight

From low so low

A bit of sun

A bit or rain

Are you the gardiner

That grows in vain

Your blessed weeds

That look so fine

Not those flowers

For which you pine

Green fingered dichotomy

More metropolitan son

Try as you might

With your little spray gun.

Effort and trying

Give him his due

Another failed season

£300 to B&Q.

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