Two fork-hoe an afternoon off

One by foot, one by car.
Both had travelled from afar.
One with a fork, one with a hoe.
The pace of work was anything but slow.
Scrape, pull, wiggle, push.
Now it’s time to shear a bush.
Shear, shear, bush disappear.
Done as fast as an angry kea.
Missions are fun and fly right by.
But now it’s time to say goodbye.