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AN ESSAY ON FLIES

[BY A. LITTLE lOT.]

A fly has two wings, and as many legs as you like xcept wen a bad boy gets hold of it, and then sumtimes, alter a little time, hasn't even got one bg. The fly crawls (I may menehun that the fly with four weela also crawls wen you hire it by the our) along tbe sealing upside down as easy as I kan ohew nuts That's very olevver, and I don't think Elondin is m it with a fly ; and yet peple ray to *cc akrobaU, aod take no ootioe of flies, wich iheykan eea for nuthin. Thus it is the ignorant wurld lets things - xcept bbd smels — pass under their very noses without notisin them.

Flies is sensible critters ; they like honey, jam, treakle, and shugar, and kan always get as muoh as they want. I wish I was a fly.

Flies are alßo retry fond of bald beads. A bald bead ia the fly's skatin-rink, and there's no charge for admisshun.

I hope I shall never have a bald head, it looks so cold and nakid, I think it is indecint not to cover up a bsld bead. But this ain't flies -am It ? But it is a orther's privileg not to stick to the suMiot he's siting about. He kan, so to speke. {day at lepe frog with all sorts of subjicts' f be likes.

I don't think a fly ever goes tp slope. At any rate it never libs down, icosp wen It is dead— and I sometimes think it mutt be orf ul tired of standln so muoh.

A fly is very differ kult to ketch, and wen you ketoh it, as a rule, you bavn't got it. That is a parrafox, or else my eddioatlon's bean neglloted, wloh I'm sure It ain't not.

The fly li a merry lnsekt, and has got I nuthin to do but fill itself and worret peple. Again, I with I was a fly. The blew-bottle li a very big fly, and makes a great nolte m the wutld*. Cook kant a -bear 'em; and wan da} wen I kort six and put them m the meat aafa, thiakln it would be a safe plaoe (that's a pnn ain't it 1) bekawie I wanted to sturdy there babbits— (l'm a natural, you know ; that's wot you kail a puraon wloh sturdy a Insekti, ain't It ?)— cook nearly had a fitt, and I qalte had a woppln. That's how I'm Inouraged m my mew■nit — or is it pursuit f I know it's lutnthln' to do with kats— of ilghenoe. It's enuf to make a boy turn a pint or a lawyer.

The fly has many enemies such as bad boys and klttenß ; but it's greatest enemee is the spyder. There's somthin' horrid mean about the way a spyder kills a fly. It don't go up to the fly, take off his koat —I mean put itself m fighting attitood — and sty "fou say that agin, and see wot I'll do J " But it lays a trap— it really do lay it, tbe same as hens lay eggs — and tbe pore Innocent littej fly buzzes merrily along, praps thinking of treakle, and bald heads, and othur nice things, wen all of a suddiot it gets kort m the spyder's web. The fly struggles hard to get out— for wot with honey and shugar, otseieror, life ia very sweet to it (that's anuther pun arn't It?)— but it seldom eslcapes. The oowherdly epyder waits until the pore fly is holplea, and then kums running up, all blunter, as if he weren't afraid of nuthin — of courae there ain't nnthtn to be afraid of when the fly kant move— and eats the fly raw ! There's a cannlball for you t dosn't even wait to let the inn warm it

; thru a bit J , Flies ofen fall m the milk jug, and generally get drowned, for they ain't much good at swimmin, and havn't got tbe senoe to float on there baks. I xptct they don't know there's any lickqaid m the milk jug, but think it's a lump of chork; and- I dare say they ain't far wrong.

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Permanent link to this item

http://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/AG18890227.2.25

Bibliographic details

AN ESSAY ON FLIES, Ashburton Guardian, Volume VII, Issue 2074, 27 February 1889

Word Count
704

AN ESSAY ON FLIES Ashburton Guardian, Volume VII, Issue 2074, 27 February 1889

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