
In the summer, bright hued flowers
Spread their petals to the sun,
And the bees sip all the nectar
From the blossoms, one by one.
Then the squirrels and the birds
Spend happy days up in the trees,
But the flies are such a nuisance in the summer!
But when summer’s warmth has faded
And November comes around,
All the pesky little insects
That in summer do abound,
Just fade into obscurity
As if they’d never been,
And I wonder, where do flies go in the winter?
I’ve talked to academics
And to theologians, too,
To the teachers and the preachers,
And a wise man from Peru,
But the answer coming from them
Is what you will tell me too!
No-one knows where all the flies go in the winter!
It’s such a simple question,
But I’ve heard no answer yet,
And it gets much more important now,
The older that I get.
So I must make this last appeal
My ignorance to ease,
Please tell me, where do flies go in the winter?
When my allotted time is over
And I stand at Heaven’s Gate,
And Saint Peter beckons to me
I’ll say, Please, Saint Peter, wait!.
E’er I enter heaven’s portals
This one question I must ask,
I implore you, where do flies go in the winter!