My Front Yard

I sprinkled seed

and watered well

the sun came up

it burned to hell,

The summer next

again I tried

and every stink’in seed

just died,

With two years past

my yard of dust

formed a very hearty

crust –

With pick and ax

out there I trod

and rolled out

luscious

pads of sod,

And then some strange

and rare disease

took every blade of grass

with ease,

So when this yard

of dirt you pass

speak kind of what you see,

for just beneath

this soil mass

my wife

has planted me.

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