Johnny Tackweed Seed went stompin’ through town,
Droppin’ his seeds where the wheels spin ’round.
He flung ’em on playgrounds, he tossed ’em on trails,
He even snuck two in the postman’s mail!
“They’re just little stars,” he said with a grin,
“They don’t bite much—unless you step in!”
But folks weren’t amused when their bike tires popped,
And barefooted joggers all angrily stopped.
“OUCH!” cried the runners. “My toes are all stabbed!”
“My wagon’s gone flat!” little Lucy blabbed.
The mayor declared, “This weed’s gotta go!”
But Johnny just chuckled, “You reap what I sow!”
He planted ‘em dry, he planted ‘em wet,
In every last place a foot might get.
And when someone shouted, “That’s just a bad weed!”
Johnny would whisper, “It’s tough—like a need.”
“They’re scrappy and spiky and low to the ground,
But give ’em a chance and they’ll stick around.”
Then off he would skip, with thorns in his shoe,
Grinning and sowing—like oddballs will do.
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