The nettle and I are at war,
It has been the bane of my life,
For the longest ten years, and more
It really has caused me some strife.

Oh, how I hate that green nettle
A really obnoxious plant,
It certainly has tested the mettle
And caused many a gardener to rant.

With weedkiller I’ve doused that nettle,
Time after time after time,
And yet it comes back to settle
In my garden, it seems such a crime.

In the old days the Soldiers from Rome
With the nettle thrashed their own skin,
In this cold country, so far from home
There was warmth in its’ terrible sting.

Giving shelter and food in its leaves
Is a good thing the nettle can do,
For cocoons many caterpillars weave
And emerge moths and butterflies too.

It’s said it makes soup, good and tasty
Only tender young leaves you must choose,
Lack of flavour will make you quite hasty
The seasoning by handsful to use.

The nettle creates such a network
Tangled roots spread all over the place,
They thrive and continue to lurk
To remove them is a really hard case.

I think I am digging to China
The roots so deep seem to go,
Maybe I should be a miner
For the tool I can’t use is a hoe.

But now I am digging for victory
The nettle and roots I’ll destroy,
In the burn pile they’ll end up as history
And then I’ll be jumping for joy.

Jackie S Brooks
26 May 2003