Hedge-ucating Remy

It was the Sunday afternoon of the sixteenth week since June -

The autumn breezes buffeted and gusted.

Will and Remy had both pledged to mow a lawn and trim a hedge,

So they set out for the task they'd been entrusted.

Arriving first, Remy felt stranded: 'Where am I now,' she soon demanded,

'Am I in London, or some far-off clime?'

Will arrived five minutes later, furious with his Garmin's data -

He'd checked his map, but had not stopped the time.

Nonetheless, these two persisted, while the fearsome hedge resisted

All attempts to trim its high and handsome top.

Though its thorns were dread and hateful, Mrs S was hugely grateful

That to its untrammelled growth we'd put a stop.

Once the hedge was trim and neat, and the side facing the street

No longer dangled in the path of passers-by,

Will mowed up and down the lawn 'til it was well and truly shorn,

While Remy dreamt of cider and of beef pad thai.

Mrs S surveyed the scenery: 'Oh, you've really helped my greenery!

You've done it all - the whole kit and caboodle!'

Will and Remy, worn out physically, went home on a bus bound Chiswickally

For beer and cider, and two plates of noodles.