TO A DESERT FLY
— With Apologies to Robert Burns) Vile, dirty scavenger of filth. Ye nasty irritating pestie, Your buzzing round about ma pow, Disturbs ma peaceful midday restie. Your lightning strike is like a hawk's You're just as light as ony feather, { raise ma hond and mak' a swipe, But then I've missed ye altogether. I ken full well that long ago, Your ancestors, their art employed it, Round Cleopatra's festive board, And nae doot thoroughly enjoyed it. And possibly, while Anthony, With artful compliment beguiled her, They swooped upon that form divine, And with their filthy feet defiled her. But that's nae reason why ye should, Persist in driving me dementil, For all your proud ancestral line, I'm certainly not complimentit. What use 3 r e are, the Deil kens, I think forsooth, the Deil did mak' 3 r e, And if the Deil should claim his ain, Awa' And let the Deil tak" ye. Pte. J. S. Gordon. Written in Egypt for the X.Z. Times.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/BPB19420722.2.9
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Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 05, Issue 81, 22 July 1942, Page 3
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168TO A DESERT FLY Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 05, Issue 81, 22 July 1942, Page 3
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