On Tuesday evening I did go
Down to the meadows for to hoe.
I hoed, I hoed, all round the field
With the pesky couchgrass at my heel
When I received this strangest thought,
I laid my hoe down on the ground,
For to gather them up was my intent,
Musing aloud long as I went.
And I was heard, both near and far
But no friend to me did appear
For this they thought, some fool’s strange words
Thus alone I was left to ponder
That an acre of couch was worth far more
Thus the ancient sages said
Than the same of carrot, planted well
And brought to market, crisp and fair.