The Mustard Seed

The earth is tilled
To root out weeds
To clean the soil for everyone's needs
The mustard seed is sown

The rain doth flow
To wet the earth
Roots do grow
And weeds do flourish by their mirth

The weeds are strong
And by their hand
Do suffocate the seeds
And the weeds do long for their own land

But man is here
To till the earth
To shed a tear
For the lowly mustard seed

But oh what joy
To hear the cry
Of that farmer boy
Who tilled the earth

For the mustard seed
It has taken root
And has grown a plant
And has grown its fruit

For the fruit of love
Is a mustard seed
It fills our need
Oh! that amazing mustard seed.


© Nick Rigazzi-Tarling 30/07/09

Our Wonderful Gardener

The gardener comes just once a month
To tidy up the plot,
Roses, weeds and camomile
She certainly trims the lot.
The grass is cut with mower,
The edges are edged clean,
And when it comes to weeding
She really is the queen.
The two hours that she toils
Is really not quite long,
She bends and kneels and crouches,
She cuts and trims and digs,
And quickly gets the job done
And then off to home she ‘jigs’.
The gardeners name is Carey,
She really is the biz,
She wears a leather belt
For all her tools she needs.
She wears her shorts in summer
They’re in shades of green or brown,
Her hair is bright and curly
As she potters out of town.
I hear that she is busy
Other gardens she keeps clean,
She is very nymph like
And looks fit as a new pin.
But talking to her daughter
Last night upon the ‘phone’,
Gardening is not her only pleasure
For she toils down at the gym!


© Nick Rigazzi-Tarling 18 July 2009