Ye Can't Kill a Tommy

I went to clean up the dead bodies, empty the lake of watery potting mix, say a few words for the helpless seeds who were drowned recently. But surprise! Here they were waving their little green arms at me. About ten of the original twenty seeds had survived the deluge and managed to push their way up to the surface.  They're now gleefully fit and tall and almost ready for transplanting to the great flat plains of the vegie patch. Ye can't kill a tommy, says my mum. Testify.