Away With Worry: Oh Poor Mole
Angela Black muses on whether there is a place in the world for moles.
Here we strike a sadder sound
Moles are blind, live underground
The creatures cannot help being born
To spend a life churning the lawn
It's only at night we'd see the moles
They come to drink from out their holes
Nearby there's sure to be a stream
They smell the water that can't be seen
Moles must be happy in their way
They must be as they're here to stay
Don't take note of the gardener's scorn
It's no big job to mend a lawn.
