A SONG ON RYE. By George C. Beach.
I was grown to be eaten and not to be drank, To be ground in a mill, not soaked in a tank.
I come as a blessing if ground into meal, As a blight and a curse if run through a still.
Make me up into bread and your children are fed, But if into drink I will kill them dead.
In bread I'm your servant, the eater doth rule-But if into drink, the drinker my fool.
Then remember the warning: My strength I'll employ; If eaten, to strengthen; if drank, to destroy.