Gardener's lament

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.