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My ankles are swollen now thanks to you buggers. I didn’t even do anything but you satisfied your hungers. We are sitting enjoying a glorious day And in you buzz, determined to have your own way. You hide your nests gradually making them bigger And then their where abouts it’s our job to figure. You can ruin a picnic or a leisurely walk And drive a hiker to jump off a dock. Under the water is a place you won’t go, But we are air-breathers and this fact you know. Cleaning up carrion and devouring our pests But why come after me while I’m having my rests? You’re nasty, Mr. Wasp; you and your stinger. I hate you. I fear you. You’re a real hum-dinger!
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Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
The Sting of Summer
My ankles are swollen now thanks to you buggers. I didn’t even do anything but you satisfied your hungers. We are sitting enjoying a glorious day And in you buzz, determined to have your own way. You hide your nests gradually making them bigger And then their where abouts it’s our job to figure. You can ruin a picnic or a leisurely walk And drive a hiker to jump off a dock. Under the water is a place you won’t go, But we are air-breathers and this fact you know. Cleaning up carrion and devouring our pests But why come after me while I’m having my rests? You’re nasty, Mr. Wasp; you and your stinger. I hate you. I fear you. You’re a real hum-dinger!
connie-buchan
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Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
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