Uncle Nate was a gardener
of incredible thumb.
The size of his veggies
struck us all dumb.

His parsnips were as green
as an island sea.
His melons were bright red
and slurp juicy.

Carrots were like spears
growing six feet down.
The dew off the sweet corn
would make you drown

One potato could make
a ton of french fries.
Everything that he planted
grew ten times its size.

At fairs he displayed
the crop he had grown.
His veggies were simply
a show of their own.

Uncle Nate and I worked
in the garden all day.
Strawberries and cherries
were my pickin's pay.

We toiled in his jungle
sun-up to sun-down.
Weedin' and hoein'
his vegetable town.

One day Uncle Nate called
and begged my pardon.
Said, 'No work today
in my beautiful garden'.

The tone in his voice
filled me with fright.
I was worried and asked
if everything was alright.

He sadly replied,
his voice melancholy.
'The police found where I buried
your dear old Aunt Molly.'