Down in Herb’s garden,
At the back of my house,
The ladies were giggling,
Making fun of a mouse.
You see, poor wee mousy,
Was tempted to nibble,
And met with Sir Chives,
A pungent, young fellow.
It appears that one taste,
Was all he could manage.
Bit off more than he could chew,
And went off to find cabbage.
The ladies, Rosemary,
And sweet Marjoram too.
Got bored and lost interest,
Having nothing to do.
Sir Chives, being bold,
And not, mild mannered,
Picked a fight with Sir Basil,
Who was always enamoured.
Sir Chives tried his best,
Fought strong and with rage.
Sir Basil, our hero,
Was more of a sage.
The ladies,
They worried,
They fretted,
They pondered.
Who would survive,
This battle,
Sir Chives, the pungent,
Or Sir Basil, our hero.
Well, in the end,
It was Sir Basil who won,
For the ladies dear,
Felt strongly for him.
So the morale my friends,
Is simply this.
Strength and virility,
Are virtues, yes,
But, sometimes, it is wisdom,
That wins over might.
The gift of Thyme,
That wins the fight.
-Written by Dee Daffodil (H.W May 12,2006)
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