This song was presented at the OHA District 4 meeting on October 26 in Fenelon Falls to celebrate FFHSs 100 years and to honour FFHS President, Kathy Armstrong and a former secretary, Dorothy Macintyre who would go door to door, selling Horticultural Society memberships for $1.00. 

Sing these words to the tune of "The Gambler".

 

On a warm summer’s eve                                                   You gotta learn when to weed it 

On my knees in the garden                                                Learn when to feed it

I met up with a gardener                                                   Learn when to dig it up

We were both too tired to weed                                        Learn when to prune

So we took turns at snapping                                           You never count your harvest

The deadheads off the flowers                                          When you’re picking off the critters

And when the final bloom had fallen                              There’ll be time enough for counting

She began to speak                                                              When you’ve trapped the 'coon.

 

She said, “Hon, I’ve made a life                                          Every gardener knows

Out of reading people’s gardens                                        That the secret to surviving

Knowing what the plants are                                             Is joining up with others 

By the dirt under their nails.                                             To share the wisdom round

So if you don’t mind me saying,                                         So let me tell you now 

I can see you’re out of compost                                           About the greenest group in Fen'lon

For a cutting of your roses                                                  The hundred year old hort group

I’ve got advice that never fails"                                          That has changed the shape of town

 

So I handed her my clippers                                                And when she finished speaking

And she snipped off a small cutting                                   She dug down in her pocket

Then she bummed my trowel                                              Handed me a member form

And asked me for a pot                                                        And asked for twenty bucks

And as the night got quiet                                                   And suddenly I realized

And mosquitoes whined around us                                    How the membership had blossomed

She said, “If you're gonna garden                                       And the group had kept on growing

You gotta use the soil you’ve got.                                        And the gardens run amok

 

You gotta learn when to weed it

Learn when to feed it

Learn when to dig it up

Learn when to prune

You never count your harvest

When you’re picking off the critters

There’ll be time enough for counting

When you’ve trapped the 'coon