Scourge a flying rout; eyes
On my grain; they eat my rapeseed up—
Their dinner, fine repast,
They rip away; a crop is ruined, cursed.
Ghouls that burrow, plague deployed
That’s sifting through my oats and rye—
This fressing spree depressing me.

Blight of locusts dines on.
Munching on corn with ears curled,
Munching on my wheat like squirr’ls.
Munching on my barley pearls,
Munching on my grainy world.

Images of groats gone “bye”; this
Band devours wheat, blight filling the skies;
I’m bawling, “Spawn, begone!” A crop is ruined, cursed.
Lots me gander—mighty
Pest-fest din; they dine, a pest-mess pox:
They’re crunching wildly as
They make their way and chop crop ruined, cursed.

Blight of locusts dines on.
Crunching on corn with ears curled,
Crunching on my wheat like squirr’ls,
Crunching on my barley pearls,
Crunching on my grainy world.

Sounds of champing, glades are rife
With things that take my hope for beer
Imbibing—proscribing for me.
Limitless their bites of lunch; sick
I’m—around me, pillaging ain’t done.
They gobble on and on, a crop is ruined, cursed.

Blight of locusts dines on,
Lunching on corn with ears curled,
Brunching on my wheat like squirr’ls,
Scrunching on my barley pearls,
Pumpkins at them gravely hurled.

Plague of locusts dines on,
Plaintively I whine on.