We tend the gardens in the yard,
And hone our efforts to reclaim,
The weeks where we let down our guard,
From rampant weeds, fed fat by rain.
We gradually take back our land,
We tend and trim. Sweat stings and stains.
We dig and toil and make our stand.
The vagrant vegetation wanes.
And in the end we shall achieve,
A temporary victory,
In time the vines and clustered leaves,
Will cover up the earth we freed.
This battle shall rage on each year,
And long outlive us when we die.
We won't prevail, this much is clear.
Yet we'll be damned if we don't try.
