THE LAST FLY OF AUTUMN.
'Twas the last fly of autumn That broke my repose ; He flew in my visage, And tickled my nose. Enraged, I pursued him In each corner and place, In him to extinguish The last of his race.
To the window he wandered, And wanted to pass, But he couldn't get through it, Because it was glass. Quite tierce I grasped at him— I've nabb'd you, thinks I, When smash went the window, And out Hew the fly.
With my right hand my head, With my left hand my nose, I scratched for a moral, And scratched for repose — And I found one—'twas this :— Never strike at a fly, But open the window, And bid him good-bye.
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Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume 2, Issue 176, 26 March 1878, Page 3
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121THE LAST FLY OF AUTUMN. Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume 2, Issue 176, 26 March 1878, Page 3
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