Classic Poem

Ay, buzz and buzz away. Dost thou suppose
I know not who thou art, who all to-day
Hast vexed and plagued me, as I write and pray,
And dared to settle on my very nose?

Thou thinkest thou canst trip me while I doze?
Each time I snatch at thee thou slipp'st away;
But wait till my next sermon: I will lay
Thee in the dust, thou Father of all Foes.

Ay, buzz about my Bible. But I wot,
Unless thou wish to shrivel, thou'lt not dare
To settle on the page, thou live blue blot!

Out, Beelzebub, or thou wilt make me swear.
Buzz back to Hell: old Martin fears thee not,
Thou god of Flies, though thou shouldst fill the air!