There is one fly, a friendly fly. He's on my feet and in my eye.
I wish the hell he'd just fly out. I chase, I swat, I scream and shout.
He takes a nap upon my toe. Where I am, he has to go.
He sleeps at night on a banana peel. Wakes me up at six with a squeal.
The door is open, won't he take a hint? Must I spell it out in fine print?
I grabbed a book and swat him dead. I can still hear him in my head.