Poem, To A Mosquito.
Bu-z-a!
Twang-ang-ang!
Zer-buz-zer-rer-zip!
Sing, thou gory brute!
Thou bandy-legged tyrant!
Thou demon with the double life!
Thou whining, whimpering whelp!
When first thou comest upon the earth
Thy wiggling, slimy form squirmethed in
The aqueous substance which the people drink,
And not content with this pollution in thy fancy,
Thy body dryeth in the fumes of hell. Thy shape
Becometh hungry, gaunt, and angular. Thy bill
Assumeth piercing point, like steel to needles made.
And now, I see thee in the air a buzzing fiend.
Ah, ha! I see thee now, with all thy hungry horde
By all the gods thou'rt stealing through me window screen!
Thou wild, amphibious, blood sucking beast.
Methinks I hear thee cry for b-z-z-ludd and b-z-gore,
But come! Come now! Come while me dander's up.
Thou alien with the tentacles and stolen blood.
Wait not, thou cringing coward, until night comes up,
To take me unawares, to stab me in the dark--
I mean the back. Come now! Alight upon that hand,
There stop! another instant and thy mangled form
Will topple! Hold! Stay, tarry, parry, Thou'rt gone!
Oh, sheol! oh, sheol! me sluggish arm, fie! fie!
Sing on, thou murd'rous siren, sing; 'twill not be long!
Author unknown, reproduced from the 7/12/1885 Bismarck (ND) Tribune.
