MY GARDEN, by A. Helen Crawford
I love my backyard garden
It surely is a mess,
But what isn't in that garden.
You would never guess.
There's the stately Hollyhocks
Nodding their Lovely heads.
Coyly flirting with Sweet William
Still lying in his bed.
Be quiet now. Mum's the word,
When you pass this glowing bed,
When they show their lovely blooms
You just gaze right on ahead.
Here's the daffodils so daffy,
In golden dress when show is gone.
What is this lovely little face?
Oh! they don't have their pansies on!
This multi-colored bed
Surely doesn't come amiss,
They call these brilliant flowers, tulips
But they never, never kiss.
Now do not rush through my garden
There are many things I love,
And as you pass on through it, You may see some Foxy Gloves.
Now that you have seen my Garden
It really isn't so forlorn,
What's that heavenly sound I hear?
It's just an Angel's Trumpet Horn.
I love my backyard garden
It surely is a mess,
But what isn't in that garden.
You would never guess.
There's the stately Hollyhocks
Nodding their Lovely heads.
Coyly flirting with Sweet William
Still lying in his bed.
Be quiet now. Mum's the word,
When you pass this glowing bed,
When they show their lovely blooms
You just gaze right on ahead.
Here's the daffodils so daffy,
In golden dress when show is gone.
What is this lovely little face?
Oh! they don't have their pansies on!
This multi-colored bed
Surely doesn't come amiss,
They call these brilliant flowers, tulips
But they never, never kiss.
Now do not rush through my garden
There are many things I love,
And as you pass on through it, You may see some Foxy Gloves.
Now that you have seen my Garden
It really isn't so forlorn,
What's that heavenly sound I hear?
It's just an Angel's Trumpet Horn.
MY GARDEN, by A. Helen Crawford
I love my backyard garden
It surely is a mess,
But what isn't in that garden.
You would never guess.
There's the stately Hollyhocks
Nodding their Lovely heads.
Coyly flirting with Sweet William
Still lying in his bed.
Be quiet now. Mum's the word,
When you pass this glowing bed,
When they show their lovely blooms
You just gaze right on ahead.
Here's the daffodils so daffy,
In golden dress when show is gone.
What is this lovely little face?
Oh! they don't have their pansies on!
This multi-colored bed
Surely doesn't come amiss,
They call these brilliant flowers, tulips
But they never, never kiss.
Now do not rush through my garden
There are many things I love,
And as you pass on through it, You may see some Foxy Gloves.
Now that you have seen my Garden
It really isn't so forlorn,
What's that heavenly sound I hear?
It's just an Angel's Trumpet Horn.
I love my backyard garden
It surely is a mess,
But what isn't in that garden.
You would never guess.
There's the stately Hollyhocks
Nodding their Lovely heads.
Coyly flirting with Sweet William
Still lying in his bed.
Be quiet now. Mum's the word,
When you pass this glowing bed,
When they show their lovely blooms
You just gaze right on ahead.
Here's the daffodils so daffy,
In golden dress when show is gone.
What is this lovely little face?
Oh! they don't have their pansies on!
This multi-colored bed
Surely doesn't come amiss,
They call these brilliant flowers, tulips
But they never, never kiss.
Now do not rush through my garden
There are many things I love,
And as you pass on through it, You may see some Foxy Gloves.
Now that you have seen my Garden
It really isn't so forlorn,
What's that heavenly sound I hear?
It's just an Angel's Trumpet Horn.
Gravesite Details
Father: Swante Linus Bruno, unable to locate place and date of death at this time.
