A caution to gardeners, be on your guard
There's a felon at work that'll lurk in your yard
He'll feast on your giblets and guzzle the juice
The serial cannibal: Robert the Spruce

He'll slyly survey his oblivious prey
Until one sorry night, as your drifting away
There's a bang and a rustle, you bustle outside
A hushed expectation inhibits your stride

Alarm bells are ringing, just seconds too late
As you stop and examine your tiny estate
Could that rustle have really been leaves on the breeze?
And since when did my garden have so many tr....