A Floral Pun-ishment

A man named Andrew had a shop,

And lots of people came his way,

In Dublin Town, his was the top,

Sold flowers nearly every day,

Working hard, he did impress,

With marketing and quality,

But then some monks saw his success,

And thought, like him, they all could be.

And so they did what he had shown,

(They had a slight advantage there,)

Cause they could grow all of their own,

And undercut his blossom share.

Within three months, the damage done,

Poor Andrew’s business almost gone,

He thought to cut his losses: run,

Had little hope to carry on.

But bad boy, Hughie, came on by,

Andrew engaged him on the spot,

To destroy the Monks’ stall and let fly

With herbicide to kill the lot.

That night, Hugh did his darksome deeds

And they proved most effective then,

The devastated monks did bleed,

And to their business said, “Amen.”

Then Andrew's Flowers reigned again,
And proved that when someone you hire,

To kill a business that’s your bane,

Only Hugh can Prevent Florist Friars.

If poetry you do enjoy,
And hope some more you now will find,
To grant your wishes, we'll employ,
And you can call us masterminds!
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