FLIES…BLOODY FLIES!

Tired tourists tumble down QANTAS steps

Gaze enthralled at our azure blue skies

Then out come the hands, here come the nets

To fend off the foraging flies

We’ve got green ones, house ones, fat old blowies

And little ones that crawl in your mouth

We’ve got flies so invasive that some folks have even

Sold up and gone back down South

And if you dare to walk outside

They’ll quickly smother your back

It may seem from a distance away

That your t-shirt is totally black

They swarm in the house whenever you’re cooking

These buzzing, maddened wee beasts

They imperil themselves in the long-legs’ webs

Are cocooned for arachnid feasts

Their mummified husks fall from above

Join the t-bone and mash on your plate

The live ones spit on the last bits of food

Gourmand guests who never come late

And if you try to shoo them away

They’ll come back with countless cousins

A few, pesky, kamikaze flies

Soon become dozens…and dozens!

So we’ve got to learn to live with flies

Because they’re not going away

Remember to wear your daggy net hat

And carry some Mortein spray.

They’re as Aussie as our Sunday barbecues,

As welcome as a lover’s lies

They’re the house pets nobody got from the Pound

They’re flies…BLOODY FLIES!