I got a garden spade,
An old-styled one,
With a wooden handle.
Owning it in a urban household,
Made me proud.
Weeding out with a hand hoe
Made me weary.
The spade never made me dreary.
Know how it has been made.
It is a tedious process with numerous courses.
Acacia is the tough durable wood,
Fifty cm shaft is of utmost use.
The iron blade’s dimension
Is a thing of due rumination.
Simple snag in making,
Bring discomfort in working.
The peasants sense the flaw lurking.
Oh! Spade! Heed to my earnest plea.
Imbue thy nature- hard working nature,
To every mortal creature.
You are akin to “Brook” of the Victorian Bard.
Oh! My Spade, with your acquaintance,
I have joy in spades.