A Horsefly Meets His End
Ne'er met a horsefly that I think I liked.
Nor such a horsefly was e'er so fond of me.
Buzz, he would, swat I would,
and thus our dance would be.
'Round the barn, 'round the pond
Past a broken shed--
Why is this fly so fond of me?
Not a question now,
I've swatted, and the fly is dead.
hear me read this poem, complete with a genuine imitation horsefly