Whose Weed is that? I think I know. Its owner is quite sad though. It really is a tale of woe, I watch him frown. I cry hello.

He gives his Weed a shake, And sobs until the tears make. The only other sound's the break, Of distant waves and birds awake.

The Weed is strong, dank and deep, But he has promises to keep, Until then he shall not sleep. He lies in bed with ducks that weep.