Butterfly, damn butterfly.
You're
not a real butterfly.
You're
just a normal fly,
which
sat upon my butter
that's
why I'm gonna now,
I'm
gonna fetch the swatter.
And
I will surely avenge
my
now infected butter,
for
it's the only thing
which
in my life does matter.
You
sat on my left cheek.
Some
say it is a bless.
But
if on me I hit you,
my own face I will mess.
So
go away fly,
go
away.
Spit
down on your path you lay.
I
don't want you in my kitchen
and
I hate your buzz to listen.
I
don't like you as a pet
You're
just here for my nape's sweat.
Did
I get you?
Did
I not?
To
find the body I cannot.
So
I sit on triumph's verge,
while
you, from behind emerge.
And
you fly to the next room,
cunningly
delaying your doom.
Fly
you toadfood!
Fly
you cunt!
I
will get you when you land.
*
* *
* Traditional
anti-fly song by the peoples of Swamp Cukoucukacou, during the first Swamplordiness election. The toads won that time, with the
mosquitoes coming very close, contrary to the general belief that the
Electric Racketman has always claimed lordship.
First
published in Kernel Kiki's 1894 poem and song collection, titled
“Silliously?”