I’m out in my garden at 6:00 a.m.
To do battle with slug and snail.
Armoured with gloves and booted feet
To search for their clear, sticky trail.
Under every leaf, rock and stick,
I poke my bottle of spray,
For no place of hiding can be left unturned
In the quest of slimy prey.
These creatures are valuable in forest and trail,
The detritus they munch and digest,
But in the garden of veggie and fruit,
They are my number 1 pest.
Slugs eat the middle of berry and bud,
The Stalk and leaves to the ground.
And when it’s dark and wet, and moist,
They slime without rattle or sound.
For an hour or more, I patrol and hunt,
And I have dispatched quite a few,
Alas they keep coming and there’s naught to do
But face it, I’ll never be through.