Composed by a Member of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Vegetables

My gentle heart wells up with woe
To think of boiling in a pot:
O who would treat a cabbage so?
My tears of pity downward flow:
And, musing that the world’s do not,
My gentle heart wells up with woe.
Uprooted from parental row
By hateful farmer’s hurtful plot —
O who would treat a cabbage so?
This heartless custom lays us low,
And in the (’s)kitchen ’t is a blot:
My gentle heart wells up with woe.
Its outside leaves away to throw
(The only clothes that it has got) —
O who would treat a cabbage so?
In boiling water then to go —
And boiling water’s very hot! —
My gentle heart wells up with woe:
O who would treat a cabbage so?
ALASTAIR R. M. MILLER