Poem by Ian Serrailier

The Headless Gardener

A gardener, Tobias Baird,
Sent his head to be repaired;
He thought, as nothing much was wrong,
He wouldn’t be without it long.
  
Ten years he’s weeded path and plot,
A headless gardener, God wot,
Always hoping (hope in vain)
To see his noddle back again.
  
Don’t pity him for his distress –
He never sent up his address.

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