"Humble pie"

by Lianne Olive Hennig

I was sitting at the table eating humble cottage pie,
When my peaceful sup was broken by an irksome little fly…
I swiped the air above him but he didn’t go away,
Then I whacked the table near him but still he had to stay,
So I brushed my arm along the top, which got him in the air
To settle on my plate edge, to sit and wash, and stare.

I raised my plate and shook it tho’ the gravy threat to spill,
But he only flew into my nose, which made me feel a dill.
I snoot him out with gusto but he didn’t go too far…
He landed on my nose bridge, as if to say, Ha! Ha!
He tickled at my tearduct to see if I would cry,
But I wouldn’t give him pleasure ~ that dratted little fly!

Then he perched himself upon the wall, as tho’ to say, Just dare
To come and get me, and see how you will fare!
I wisely knew much better as I went to fetch my swat,
Though when I came back to it, the sight of him was not…
So, I settled at my plate once more to eat my cooling pie,
When again upon the table flew the saucy little fly.

I swatted here, I swatted there, but all to no avail.
I even stood upon a chair to try to end this tale,
But he nestled in a corner when he tired of the play,
So I had to give up swatting and go to find the spray…

I trailed him with insecticide but it always seemed to miss.
I choked and squinted as I thought, It had to come to this?
You silly little idiot, why didn’t you go away?
For then you would’ve lived to fly upon some other day.

Through the mist I noted that he seemed to fly no more,
And I couldn’t sight him on the wall or on the floor.
I sat back at the table to finish off my pie when
Splat!  Right in the middle, died the hairy little fly.
His body seemed to taint not just the middle but the rest,
So, he took with him my dinner ~ curse the tiny blighted pest!