He keeps his tools in the garden shed, he mows the lawn he trims the hedge. Those Latin plant names fill his head, he even sleeps in the flower bed. [Chorus] He's the gardener. He plants the bulbs he sows the seed, he ruthlessly hunts down the weeds. He works until his poor hands bleed, to own a tractor is his dream. As world recession takes a hold, his Lordship makes some cuts at home. He's told to pack his bags and go, he falls dead in the winter snow.