The lady who had lice in her hair,
She scratched her head on the way to the fair,
Then she looked over here,
She pointed up in fear,
But it was not to be seen anywhere.
Once was a man called Brice
Known for having head lice
At the swap meet for fleas
No one buys despite needs
Fear of fleas lice is curse twice
I like spiders and I like black ants.
For fleas and lice, I take another stance.
Sometimes, I wonder if they admire us.
The same question goes for a virus.
Neither foolish fleas and lice, spread by mice,
Nor black ants and spiders, heed my advice.
Disgusting dirt and dust cannot defend
Against a vacuum cleaner's business end.
I'll add one more stanza in this edit
To give that nasty virus credit
For being both invincible and mean
And evading vacuums - COVID-19.
It’s Matthew Slice with his throwable dice
And his spiky hair filled with wingless lice
But they save the day not once, not twice but thrice.
They spit on his face, so he pays the price
The lice are heroes. Please take my advice
All hail the heroes, defeating a zero
All hail the heroes, on the planet of Shiro
It’s Matthew Slice, who’s looking so nice
Along with his best friends, the wingless lice.
Planet Shiro’s lice are greater than Nero
Here comes the one from the burning sun
Here come the ones who are having some fun
The goons’ remarks are just weighing puns
Those filthy goons have nowhere to run
Screw the goons with their pointy guns!!!
It’s Matthew Slice with his throwable dice
And his spiky hair filled with wingless lice
They’re the bravest heroes of the insect race
They’re the bravest heroes from out of space
It’s Matthew slice and his wingless lice!!!!
Some conspicuous lice met once or twice
With white follicle mites who came out at night
And an upside down tick who did magic tricks
That entertained maggots who shared roasted haggis
With pole dancing worms who wriggled and squirmed
Under Chinese mosquitos munching burpy burritos
Chasing cobwebby crickets selling counterfeit tickets
To shows where no sensible grubs want to go
Warning churchgoing termites that these shows were a blight
On a class of weevil whose bite could be lethal
For marbleized moths drinking steaming Scotch broth
And sanitized beetles who had pins and needles
From sharing cold baths with nonsensical gnats
Watched by camp caterpillars strung out on painkillers
Sharing smokes with loud locusts who were very much focussed
On prostrate praying mantises with suspicious practices
They prepared a squad to ambush
On hairy forests of a human head.
Things were well planned to push
The army on the murky skin-bed.
Army of Lice marched on warily
Towards the places assigned to all.
They had to peep everywhere slyly
Lest they are knocked by Fingernail.
The Larger ones are the commanders
Of this momentous Guerrilla attack.
Smalls will follow forgetting Slanders
And battle with guts, work in Pack.
They furrow the skin to make Trench
So that they can fight and stay secure.
Some would plunge in them to drench
Themselves in the blood for adventure.
These Lice have a Mission to fulfill.
They make slices of nice hair with
Their teeth of Vice like stinging Eel
Or Mice, with ruthless urge beneath.
They have attacked on the Two-footed,
Some would hide and ambush at once,
Some hang by hair until it’s uprooted.
All they do is sip, sting, cling, flounce.
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