Richmond Enquirer

LOVE OF

BETSEY BUCKWHEAT AND SIMON SPARROWGRASS.

ROWGRANN.

When Dr. Darwin ruled the taste of folks with rod despotic;
He sung the love of all the plants, both native and exotic;
I mean to say, he thought he did, but he forgot, alas!
The loves of Betsey Buckwheat, and one Simon Sparrowgrass.

A culinary maid was she, and he a man herbaceæ,
"Oh! lauk a daisy," he exclaimed, and she, "my goody gracious."
He took his bread and cheese with her, also a little shrub,
And after killing caterpillars, swallowed down his grub.

This Simon he was very thin, though thick with Bet, by gosh,
For he was like a parsnip long, and she a summer squash:
He called her his sweet sugar pea-dwarf, marrowfat, I ween-
For love had in his head and heart-his poll and kidney been.

His jacket scored in patches, wasn't worth a single shilling,
His pantaloons were full of holes-of course were made of drilling,
He said he looked like scurvy-grass, and it was most distressing.
Said she "you know I think a goose is nothing without dressing."

His love was deeply rooted-so he thought he'd stir his stumps,
And as his mouth did water, why he bought a pair of pumps:
A reddish coat he got cut out, with turn-up collar jutting,
And so love-apples he did mean to propagate by cuttings.

Her peepers were black Hamburgs, and she sharpened all his sighs;
When Cupid plants his round and grape, they're shoots from female eyes.
While Simon was a raking, little Cupid often laughed,
To think how Betty Buckwheat soon, would rake him fore and aft.

He vowed to pop the question, and one Sunday night they met,
And there they shared the loaves and fish-a kitchen cabinet.
He thought he'd like a stock of Simons, from a little tailor-tree,
And raise some little suckers, from a little nursery.

"Oh! Betty Buckwheat," then said he, "if you and I don't wed,
'I shall return from whence I came-that's to a parsley-bed-
Then 'ere horse-pistols what you see, shall visit these 'ere lugs:'
Then slow as any snail he went, to choose a brace of slugs.

"Oh Sparrowgrass! O Sparrowgrass! O Sparrowgrass," said she,
I can't resist-I'm all your own-It's my fut-nlity.
But Simon thought the fingers of her fists were so immense,
'Twould take ten dollars to enclose one in a gold ring fence.

As calms succeed a storm sometimes, so storms succeed a calm;
And weeks of corncob followed Simon's honey-moon of balm;
For brandy blossoms soon were seen, upon her bottle-nose:
And bulbs they budded on his head, for there she planted blows.

The forcing system she pursued, was, from the house to scold him;
It prov'd a hot-house, for she made, the house too hot to hold him
For Betty planted lots of Box around his cranium's ledge,
But though he did dislike his Bet, it was too late to hedge.

His Waspish Bee, he then found out, was but a mere hum-Bug,
For daily to her jugular, she join'd another jug.
Her hands would gather in his crop-for she would tear his hair;
And the nature of the Crab, was grafted, on this kitchen pair.

To make an end of Sparrowgrass, she swore from the beginning;
She starv'd him, though his long lean limb, did never need much chinning;
One day she knock'd him down, and ran, in spite of all his prayer;
She was an Offset out of doors-he on the ground a layer.

So he fell sick, to think no junior Sparrowgrass should be ;
A little heir he thought to feel-a Sun-flower to see.
The Faculty could not restore, his faculties to try'em;
It is not strange that soon he died-he physic took per diem.

His lady Toad in our Frog pond, then drown'd herself one night;
But all liquors from the Common, now are banish'd quite--
Each 'lection day her ghost appears, and laughs to think-od rot her-
That's she's the only Spirit there, allow'd to mix with Water.