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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374801" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Happy Gardeners</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">We were storemen, clerks and packers on <br>an ammunition dump <br>Twice the size of Cootamundra, and the goods <br>we had to hump <br>They were bombs as big as water-butts, and <br>cartridges in tons, <br>Shells that looked like blessed gasmains, and <br>a line in traction-guns. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We had struck a warehouse dignity in dealing <br>with the stocks. <br>It was, “Sign here, Mr. Eddie!” “Clarkson, <br>forward to the socks!” <br>Our floor-walker was a major, with a nozzle <br>like a peach, <br>And a stutter in his Trilbies; and a limping <br>kind of speech. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We were off at eight to business, we were free <br>for lunch at one, <br>And we talked of new Spring fashions, and the <br>brisk trade being done. <br>After five we sought our dugouts lying snug <br>beneath the hill, <br>Each with hollyhocks before it and geraniums <br>on the sill. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Singing “Home, Sweet home,” we swept, <br>and scrubbed, and dusted up the place, <br>Then smoked out on the doorstep in the twi- <br>light's tender grace. <br>After which with spade and rake we sought <br>our special garden plot, <br>And we 'tended to the cabbage and the shrink- <br>ing young shallot. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So long lived we unmolested that this seemed <br>indeed “the life.” <br>Set apart from mirk and worry and the inci- <br>dence of strife; <br>And we trimmed our Kitchen Eden, swapping <br>vegetable lore, <br>Whi1e the whole demented world beside was <br>muddled up with war. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was little talk of Boches and of bloody <br>battle scenes, <br>But a deal about Bill's spuds and Billy <br>Carkeek's butter-beans; <br>Porky specialised on onion and he had a sort <br>of gift <br>For a cabbage plump and tender that it took <br>two men to lift. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the pleasant Sabbath morning, when the <br>sun lit on our “street,” <br>And illumed the happy dugout with effulgence <br>kind and sweet, <br>It was fine to see us forking, raking, picking <br>off the bugs, <br>Treading flat the snails and woodlice and <br>demolishing the slugs. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then one day old Fritz got going. He had <br>a hint of us, <br>And the shell the blighter posted was as roomy <br>as a 'bus; <br>He was groping round the dump, and kind of <br>pecking after it; <br>When he plugged the hill the world heeled up, <br>the dome of heaven split. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then, 0 Gott and consternation! Swooped a <br>shell a and stuck her nose <br>In Carkeek's beans. Those beans came up! <br>A cry of grief arose! <br>As we watched them—plunk! another shell <br>cut loose, and everywhere <br>Flew the spuds of Billy Murphy. There were <br>turnips in the air. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bill! she tore a quarter-acre from the land- <br>scape. With it burst <br>Tommy's carrots, and we watched them, and <br>in whispers prayed and cursed. <br>Then a wail of anguish 'scaped us. Boomed <br>in Porky's cabbage plot <br>A detestable concussion. Porky's cabbages <br>were not! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There the Breaking strain was reached, for <br>Porky fetched an awful cry, <br>And he rushed away and armed himself. <br>With loathing in his eye, <br>Up and over went the hero. He was savage <br>Through and through, <br>And he tore across the distance like a mad- <br>dened kangaroo. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They had left a woeful sight indeed—frail cab- <br>bages all rent, <br>Turnips mangled, little carrots all in one red <br>burial blent, <br>Parsnips ruined, lettuce shattered, torn and <br>wilted beet and bean, <br>And a black and grinning gap where once our <br>garden flourished green. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Five and fifty hours had passed when came a <br>German in his shirt. <br>On his back he carried Porky black with <br>blood, and smoke and dirt. <br>“I sniped six of 'em,” said Porky, “an' me <br>pris'ner here,” he sez- <br>“I done in the crooel swine what strafed me <br>helpless cabba-ges.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edward+George+Dyson">Edward George Dyson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374801" data-title="The Happy Gardeners de Edward George Dyson" data-description="We were storemen, clerks and packers on 
an ammunition dump 
Twice the size of Cootamundra, and the goods 
we had to hump 
They were bombs as big as water-butts, and 
cartridges in tons, 
Shells that looked like blessed gasmains, and 
a line in tr..."></div>
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