Lady Chatterley’s Cabbage

Lady Chatterley’s Cabbage
Was big and firm and round.
A strapping hefty vegetable,
Grown on fertile ground.

Lady Chatterley lovingly
Tended to it daily,
Each day she’d sit right down by it,
Conversing with it gaily.

None were ever privy
To her tender whispered talk;
Of how she loved those rich green leaves,
Admired that sturdy stalk.

One day, she said: I’ll have you!
Now you’re huge and ripe!
And with those words, out from her skirt,
She pulled a gleaming knife.

She sliced the cabbage from its roots,
The earth where it had grown
Said: Now my precious vegetable,
You’ll live with me at home!

She took the veg inside with her;
To be her favourite toy,
She clutched it to her bosom,
Her frantic pride and joy.

At evening times, she went upstairs
By flickering candle light;
Her cabbage went, held closely,
And lay with her all night.

Servants at the keyhole
Heard her gasp and groan
And heard the squeak of cabbage leaves,
Content in their new home.

Mr. Chatterley, wretched,
Long banished from her room,
Heard the strangest rumours,
Immersed himself in gloom.

But even cabbages have their day,
In ripeness, green and mellow:
Their leaves will wilt, their stalks will tilt,
Their foliage turn yellow.

Oh no! My precious cabbage!
Lady Chatterley cried,
And mourned that day, not far away
When her cabbage truly died.

Her husband thought he’d win her back
But of him, she had no need;
She simply browsed a catalogue
For brand new cabbage seed!