Garden From Hell

Our garden is as big as three school halls.
Scattered with weeds, toys and all kinds of balls
When mum comes home she screams, "Hells bells,
This surely is the garden from hell!
Mow the lawns and dig out the weeds,
Pick up the toys and plant some seeds.
Will this place get fixed? Oh, who can tell!
Why did you create this garden from hell?
The ground is rock hard and made of clay,
We've mulched, composted and laid some hay,
But it still doesn't fit so we'll have to sell,
This horrible, terrible garden from hell."
So now we've moved to a brand new house
It's tidy and neat and oh so grouse.
We have a fountain, roses and a wishing well!
And we no longer have the garden from hell.