The poet hates the greenery because it makes him

The countryside must preserved    
(Preferably miles away from me.)    
Neat hectares of the stuff reserved    
For those in need of flower or tree.    
I'll make do with landscape painting    
Film documentaries on TV    
And when I need to escape, panting,    
Then open-mouthed I'll head for the sea.    
Let others stroll and take their leisure,    
In grasses wade upto their knees.    
For I derive no earthly pleasure    
From the green green rash that makes me sneeze.    
— Roger McGough