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There Used to be a Fly in Town (a fly poem)

07/03/2017

There used to be a fly in town, there used to be a fly.

He’d fly real high right to the sky then dive into the pie.

He’d fly real low just for the show then sit and lick his toe.

And everyone who’d met the fly adored and loved him so.

Oh, what a fly, my, what a fly, the baker’s wife would say.

Oh, what a fly, no day goes by without a pie to play.

Oh, what a fly, why, what a fly, the baker’s friends did speak.

Oh, what a fly, let’s go and buy another pie to lick.

And everyone who’d met the fly agreed: he’s such and such.

And everyone who’d bought a pie licked liked it very much.

There used to be a fly in town, there used to be a fly.

And I shan’t lie, I can’t deny that he was rather chic.

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From → Memory

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