In the Beginning, before the Garden, was the Weed. And the Weed begat the gardener
One Funky Weed
Long ago, in the time before time, the seventh seed fell, and there sprang up a vine
of silken stem and tendrils scented, finest flower yet invented.
Soon come the wisemen, the poets and scribes,
the great and their mates and their never-you-minds.
Drawn to the vine as a babe to the teat
and deep the root burrowed beneath their good feet.
Then one steps forward as many mount fence
and says, I hate to tell ya, gents
but that there creeper aint no vine
never did see one quite so fine
aint no bush and it aint no tree,
brothers, that mother's One Funky Weed.
It is written that the Weed shall inherit the Garden.
(A Group of Flesh-Feeding Plants)
.....
Keen gardeners are invited to visit
and
Others are advised to lock the house and stay inside