How seldom do we think about the world beneath our feet,
the myriad of creatures hearts, beneath the soil, that beat.
The ordinary earthworms that carry out the toil,
of wriggling and boring to till the gardeners soil.
The only possible reward, that they will ever get,
is to be eaten by the blackbirds, without even a regret.
The moles pursue their journey, with a breathing break,
they come up to the surface, leaving molehills in their wake.
When they travel neath a bowling green, (not a clever antic),
they leave their piles across the green, and leave the bowlers frantic.
Fluffy bunny rabbits, children think they’re quite the tops,
but wild one from the burrows, devastate the farmers crops.
Cockroaches remained the same a thousand years or more
ignoring evolution, left Darwin feeling mighty sore
its always the exception that completely flouts the rule
when he took his book to the printers he must have felt a fool