| And now, by two stout boys, away They send the beet to town next day, That all the people there may see How large a beet can grow to be. They put her in a window there, Where every one can point and stare. |
| There the poor sloven sits and cries, Till beet juice oozes from her eyes; But ah! was such sight ever seen? The beet juice tears have washed her clean; And then, the strangest thing of all, As fast and faster still they fall. |
| The beet tears melt her back once more Into the child she was before. She does not stay to wipe her eyes, But home with eager feet she hies. "Oh mother, mother dear," cries she, "Henceforth a cleaner child I'll be." |