Another NS comp entry
I snip and clip
And trim each tip
Of ivy, bamboo and furze.
I prune the rose
As each shoot grows.
It’s such fun with my secateurs.
I slit and chop
And lop and crop -
Such speed that the gadget blurs!
I branches dissever
For ever and ever,
Thanks to my secateurs.
I cut a dash!
I gash and slash
And prune, and I cleave the burrs;
I thin and cut -
No if nor but -
Just a flick of my secateurs.
I trim and slice
Not once, but twice -
As Monty Don always prefers.
I lop and sunder
The growth that’s under,
Lash out with my secateurs.
Once more for luck!
I nip and tuck
And no single plant demurs.
No errant leaf
Will cause me grief –
I attack with my secateurs.
But
When I look back
I see a lack
Of green, and a thought occurs:
There’s nix but sticks!
What awful tricks
Have been played by my secateurs.
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