There once was a man who had wanted to grow
some plants in his garden. He started to sow
a varied assortment of flowery things,
and he planted some bushes- quite thorny, with stings.
He looked at his garden with pleasure and pride-
this pride ever growing: "I've got nothing to hide.
My garden is top-class! I can quite afford
to boast and show off; I've got green hands- my word!"

And down on his knees he would spent every day
to get rid of the daisies he saw with dismay;
for "...In this here garden, there will nothing grow
which does not belong-- That which I didn't sow!"
So thus he killed off all that bloomed or that moved,
whenever his choosy mind hadn't approved;
and slowly but surely the native things went--
quite so as if never to be they were meant.

He replaced them with things from around half the world,
with plants from Japan, whose leaves were all curled;
from India, Africa, China and Spain,
for native plants- he had found- were far too plain.
One day, he received a new plant from a friend:
A thing that not ever to be here was meant.
It'd grown in a place which was far and remote,
and where no people lived- for good reason, take note!

The thing, on delivery, had bitten the hand
of the postman- for it was a meat-eating plant.
It's diet included first insects and mice;
but once fully grown, it found larger things nice...
And in just a short period, it grew large and tall-
though all dogs and cats dissappeared by next fall;
and so did our gardener- during next spring,
they found near the greenhouse his watch and his ring.

The plant now was blooming- a wonderful sight-
in all sorts of colors. The climate was right,
and so was the soil. Seeds were blown away
by the wind, and fell down in some garden, to stay...

W.J.B