I gardened lonely round the back
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I gardened lonely round the back
Where weeds grow high o'er grassy plot,
When all at once my back  did crack,
Much pain, it hurt me quite a lot!
My packs of daffs, beneath my knees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

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The medicos called by nine nine nine
Came speeding down the motorway.
They fetched me in to join that line,
Kept waiting for the empty bay.
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Casualty queues, no earthly chance.

​

So quickly dancing on my feet,
A wave I gave, and off to see
My private doctor him to meet.
He fixed me up for modest fee,
I gazed-and gazed- but little thought,
What peace for me that policy bought.

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For oft when round the back I spy,
My work now done and growing fast.
Plants of gold that grow so high,
My heart it leaps, ignores the past,
My back it moves by aid of pills,
And dances with the daffodils.
Keith Murphy©