The Beetle That Ate the Roses (Cockchafer)

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
In the cluttered study on Hammerschmidt Street,
Johann Wilhelm Meigen, fifty-five in 1819,
pins another specimen to the cork board.
The cockchafer, Melolontha melolontha,
reddish-brown and hairy, fanned antennae twitching.
He notes the date, April twenty-third,
ink smudging on the ledger page.

[Chorus]
Oh, the beetle that ate the roses,
in Pemba's garden at dusk,
munching on petals like forbidden secrets.
Cockchafer, you rascal, emerging from loamy soil,
after years underground as a grub,
now flying clumsy into the twilight,
buzzing with that scratchy hum.

[Verse 2]
Outside, in the oak forest near Aachen,
temperature dropping to ten degrees Celsius,
smell of wet earth and decomposing leaves.
Adults swarm at eight PM, May second,
feeding on young oak leaves, edges chewed ragged.
Meigen's glass jar captures one,
legs prickling against the smooth sides.

[Bridge]

Remember the children in rural villages,
1815, filling sacks with thousands,
paid a pfenning per hundred,
turning plague into a grim game.
Cockchafer years, mass emergences,
devastating crops, roots devoured.
But you, little beetle, just playing your part.

[Verse 3]
In the dim light of the study lamp,
Meigen quotes himself: the systematic arrangement
of insects, a task of great importance.
He observes the morphology, the life cycle spanning years,
larvae feeding underground, adults brief above.
The fine mesh net still in his hand,
horse-drawn cart rumbling outside.

[Chorus]
Oh, the beetle that ate the roses,
in Pemba's garden at dusk,
munching on petals like forbidden secrets.
Cockchafer, you rascal, emerging from loamy soil,
after years underground as a grub,
now flying clumsy into the twilight,
buzzing with that scratchy hum.

[Outro]

And so the cockchafer dances on,
in the cool evening breeze.