I wasn't very happy last Tuesday when I discovered that someone had been in my garden and stolen the trugs I use when I'm weeding and pruning. Why, I don't know; they are not worth selling on, and the plastic is ripped on a couple.
One of my friends suggested I write a poem, probably in jest. I thought the challenge was worth a limerick.
The Trug Thief
There once was a tea-leaf in Marton
Who nicked all the trugs from my garden
I hope that their fingers
Go green and it lingers
Until they sprout leaves and then harden.