Broccoli Poem by Dom Desmond

If I were a borrower, I would seek this high and low,
A place to hang swings, to shelter from the snow,
At night I'd raid your fridges, with small ladders made from twigs,
And pulleys drawn from fish nets, holding halved and dried old figs,
I'd squeeze them through tight floorboards, and fight off hungry rats,
To plant them in the garden, of my little penthouse flat,
Next time you see some broccoli, please don't think of it and flee,
Just think of tiny people, all dancing round their tree.