The old thistles dying and the young thistles growing
And the thistledown in the warmth of the afternoon are blowing
Above the brown paddocks in the freshening Summer breeze
On a January day of twenty five degrees
In Thistledown the famous poem by Harold Monro
He told of the thistles how they do self sow
The tiny fluffy thistle seeds by the wind blown
To grow in nearby place as a noxious weed known,
In Summer and Autumn the winds blow the thistledown here and there
And thistle seeds not fussy they do grow everywhere
In wet ground or dry ground thistles you will find
To grow anywhere they are all too inclined
They are sprayed and poisoned but to grow and spread they succeed
Thistles are survivors a hardy noxious weed.
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