Garden Worms

They never rest from toil, ever churning up the soil,
Making tunnels, leaving castings there,
My gardens healthy, rich and rare,
My heart o'erflows with love so dear
For lowly earthworms ever near,(this poem is most strange and queer!!)

And during times of rain, something jingles in my brain,
An alert goes off inside my toff,
I don my coat and then I'm off,
Not caring for my cold and cough,
To search for stranded earthworms who have slithered onto gravel rough. (Looks like cough!)

The rain has gathered on the grass, the lowly earthworm there I pass,
To rid his gleaming outer coat of the nasty gravel overcoat.
I place him gently on my heap of compost where he used to sleep
The sleep that caused one end to smile, as he lingered on my compost pile.
A pox on any who would look to pierce him with a fishing hook!!