Bedbugs | Nebraska State Historical Society

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THE BEDBUG

Twas on a sultry summer night, The moon was shining calm and bright, When from my couch I rose to fight The bedbug.

I uttered many a sad lament, As on my murderous search intent, Into each hidden crack I went For bedbugs.

My wretched limbs were smarting well, And O, my anguish who can tell, As oft I caught the sickening smell Of bedbugs.

Their stinging bites, how well I know When, with a sure, death-dealing blow, I pounce upon my luckless foe, The bedbug.

And ever, how my spirit grieves, As 'mong the Bible's sacred leaves I find those dirty, skulking thieves, The bedbugs.

And oft I start, in dread affright, When on the parson's collar white There scrambles out, in plainest sight, The bedbug.

And through my head this query ran: How in the name of mercy can To church a decent, Christian man Bring bedbugs?

And let them run and dodge about, Play 'hide and seek,' and in and out Upon the carcass of the lout, Unheeded.

Should 'auld Nick's' pitchfork need a prong, Wherewith to probe the tortured throng, He only needs to send along Some bedbugs.

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Bedbugs | Nebraska State Historical Society

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