Not drowning but waving.

 
A bricklayer told me in the pub,
that at Monyhull asylum,
they had pear, apple and a walnut tree,
the inmates would collect the fruits
and put them in straw,
in an old barn.
 
They would chase out the rats
and the cats would catch them.
 
The more you love them the better they be,
a child, a lunatic and a walnut tree,
the nights are drawing close,
we moved the tender plants indoors.

 
Apologies to Stevie Smith.