Boys aren't like pigweed, you know.
"Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1902 to 1903"
Lucy Maud Montgomery
They love the stack and hay-barn in the distant field, where the farmer fodders his cattle upon the snow, and every red-root, ragweed, or pigweed left standing in the fall adds to their winter stores.
"Birds and Poets"
John Burroughs
"I say," whispered Gerald, who was beginning to recover from his alarm, "you know, I suppose, that asphodel is a kind of pigweed?"
"Hildegarde's Harvest"
Laura E. Richards