I live up on the hill in Ochre Pit Cove I don't know what to do, Johnny's got me drove. I got them from the big land, across the straits and sea. Skipper Drudge from Old Fort Bay brought the plants to me. Proud I was to dig a hole and put the all the roots down. This was not an easy task in rocky Newfoundland ground. The winds were harsh and bitter cold all winter long. When spring came I was happy to see the the stalks and leafs growing strong. I was called away to the city to meet my new grandson. I called upon Johnny to get my yard work done. He cut the grass, dug a ditch and babied my willow trees. He took his time and mined his blades around the peonies. September came I flew home, happy to be here. I couldn't wait to harvest the what I planted just last year. I ran up the bank to see the little garden I had by the shed. What I saw was unbelievable, my rhubarb plants were dead. Johnny killed the rhubarb plants He beat them with a stick. When asked what caused the rants. He said rhubarb made him sick. Now I'm left with a rhubarb patch flattened to the ground. Johnny better run if I ever sees him around.   Submitted By: