reprinted from Camellia News No. 167 Autumn 2005

images‘Whether you’re rich or whether you’re poor,
I want roses around my door’.
(At the marriage of my mother’s son
The bride said this in 51).

Now he was young and free of care
So he saw no need to worry,
In hindsight perhaps he should have been
In something less than a hurry.

So roses were ordered by the score
In accordance to her wishes,
And the plantings were graded second best
To the biblical loaves and fishes.

Well the years flash by at lightning speed
And the numbers got much bigger,
Then an unexpected change took place
Much more than he could figure.

As ordered to by ‘you know who’,
He had roses everywhere,
But someone in the dead of night
Left the garden bare.

So hard to solve the problem,
Perhaps camellias were the ‘go’
He made an executive decision
And grew them row by row.

As a fatalist he truly thought
Things were meant to be.
But on word sums the whole thing up –



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