Garden rows

 There are rich folks who keep em

and tramps who do sleep in em

There are flower planters, and potters and hoes

And fun guys who stop in em, and blow fly who pop in em

And blue bottles who blow hot n cold

But a garden will harden your taste for the women

Said God to Adam back then

Be they full fat or skimmin

Those full bodied women

For Eve, Adam was a fool

You might meet him in April with the showers

Or in May while he's weeding the flowers

Or in June when the boon

Of a sweet summer swoon

Is in full bloom in the beds and the trees

He's a goose in the berries

He'll kneel down like the Maries

At the feet of The Lord Jesus at the tomb

He'll park it and lark it

Like a Nightingale market

When the hobgoblins come into your room

He'll Fuchsia and Susia 

and cousin cross loose yer 

with the guinea fowl and the Peahen

And then they'll imbue yer 

with apple juice from a milieu 

of trees

that'll make you think of the birds and the bees

Because Sunday in a garden, is when all work must stop

Then God leaves his sickle upon table top

And he lies down with his missus 

And she rests her mop

Because the house is as clean as can be

And because the garden never will be free

From inside his green sleeve

Where he wore his heart for Eve 

Oh what can you make of the musical garden

The trumpets and strings and guitars in em

 The fluted lilies in rhythm go

 drumming to heaven like a lettuce love show

And I'm in heaven when I'm in them so 

Oh keeping up with the Jones

Who with begonias and bougainvilleas 

Are entertaining Huguenots And Astronauts 

And gnomes 

But beside the pond

Where frogs all frond

Upon frilly lillies with sticky willy tongues

The Combs of the honey

The ribald ribbit that isn't funny

But just when a neighbour is a friend or dial tone 

When your garden is the same as

Your next door neighbours

Then you should be very afraid 

To be better than the Franklin's or Jones

Who tend and water religiously

Whether they are together or alone

It keeps their hands busy and better

that than dizzy with petty jealousies

For which to atone

So dare you look beyond with your eyes

 oh outside of the gates of paradise

So to paradise market

Where the sales tags mark it

All discount prices on God's creation

But of course man will sell it

To garden gates of hell with it

Where it will be too hot to grow it

Anyway

And bring it home to grow it

Let the bees suck and show it

And just once you may know it

To be good

That at last you've made

a neighbourhood

but your neighbour's a pain in the neck

because she's always sunbathing on deck

She says you're blocking her light

 Next we're into a fight 

and nobody's framing the night

So let bygones be bygones

And bury the hatchet

For the next year a new government

Is bound to unthatch it

Just weave it together

And chat over the hedge line

For there's nothing better than the weather

To converse about to kill time