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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I swung with a vengeance but missed that damned fly The breeze I’d created caused him to pass by My electric racquet in underarm mode Still failed to make that bluebottle explode It filled me with hate as it buzzed round my plate I swung and I swung and became more irate That foul little demon was soon to be dead As soon as it took itself off of my head Now, I’m not a coward in anyone’s book But I’m in no hurry to smell my brain cook I angled my zapper to strike as it rose And almost set fire to the tip of my nose It flitted at speed like a Pac-Man on heat But I am a human… I will not be beat My dinner was cooling and it wasn’t salad I’ll murder that fly and then write me a ballad Overarm, underarm, back-hand and flip My energised racquet was firm in my grip At one point it landed on chandelier-high And I had to wave that light fitting goodbye My sausage was cold (can we please keep this clean) And I had become a fly killing machine A back somersault and a cartwheel or two My electric racquet had flashed neon blue Poor little Tiddles, she trusted me so Her recuperation has some way to go But I’ll give her cuddles and snuggles and then I dearly regret that I zapped her again Twas kinda Dick Whittington, but in reverse Tiddles left home and I don’t know what’s worse My poor little kitten is out on her own But that demon-fly is at rest on my phone How great the temptation to say what the hell And batter that fly and my iPhone as well But then it took off and it sped through the air I swung and I swiped and set fire to my hair Okay I confess; just a few hairs got singed But I don’t have many and that’s why I whinged In anger I swiped at the sound of its hums Which came close to giving me two deep fried plums How bloody long can a bluebottle live My electric racquet and I cannot give Yet more gymnastics to vanquish our foe As I shoot some volts through my right hand big toe I whirled like a dervish and now on a mission I swung like a thing that had infra red vision But, boy, did I cheer at the quiet little ‘phut!’ As that fly took a window to find it was shut *** But now I feel guilty for I’ve done okay Though I don’t know who saw me swinging away I owe my new job to that small airborne menace My local school wants me to teach the kids tennis
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