We carefully tuck them All into their beds, Then pinch, poke, and coax them, Remove their spent heads. We cross them, then toss them Or force them to grow. We lovingly boss them And drench with cold flow!

We mass them and class them And make them eat dirt, And seldom do ask them, "Does anything hurt?". With relish we shear them In sun's morning shaft; No questions nor qualms, Make them partners in graft!

We scrutinize field guides To learn what it takes, Dig up and divide then, Or tie to the stakes? We worry and wonder Just what should we do When red rose goes under, Replace it with new?

We smell them and hold them When bloom is complete Then pridefully show them Put rocks on their feet. We train and contain them, And cleverly name them (as most clever names go), "guaranteed hardy" And "real easy to grow"!