Hard's the fight with Nature in our uncongenial climate,
Cuddling plants and coaxing 'em, and oh, the weary time it
Takes to get a slender crop—we toil the Summer through;
England, needing quick returns, is looking now to you!
Food that comes from tropic lands, needing heat upon it,
You could grow without a thought, if you'd doff your bonnet;
Thousands of you, growing food on your daily trips,
Helping to economise the tonnage of our ships.
Oh, to count the numbers
Of Cabbages on the march,