At Christmas time one should spare a thought for hoeless gardeners.

I was thinking one might progress through the hole pom by Clement Clarke Moore, lie by lie... (thus continuing Not a creature was sirring, not even a muse) and so on.

Sounds a goo idea... may I provide ink?

(Kim) . . . and navvies who can't even afford their own hovel.

Not to mention street-sweepers dealing with the extra garage with only a bush.

I'm glad I don't live in the U.S. of A.. When tornadoes run through the mid-west they have huge ranches land in back yards. Here we just have eaves cluttering up the place.

*sings* - "You say tonadoes and I say tonahdoes...."