The Wizard and The Fly

There was a Wizard visiting a peaceful land
Who stayed as a guest in the grandest palace.
Of a king who ruled with a gentle hand
With a beautiful queen who bore none malice.

This Wizard found a fly in his cup of mead
While he feasted with royal guests surrounding
And getting quite bored with the princely breed
He decided to save the fly from drowning.

He saved the fly but soon thought better
As it sat on his finger drying its wings.
Watching he thought how awfully clever
It would be to teach the fly to sing!

To the guests amazement he proclaimed
That he would conjure the fly however weak.
Then with a swirl of his wand he trained
All of his powers to make it speak!

At once, there arose an irritating whine
And following that a high pitched sigh.
Then speaking as if it had memorized lines
It started to discourse on the condition of flies.

To the Wizard it asked most accusingly
Why his kind were treated with such disdain
“If all flies were given the power to speak
Would not humans repent their violent aim?”

“I think not,” said the Wizard to the fly

“If you gave me a brain,” continued the pest
“I could champion a righteous resistance.
Petitioning the courts as an honored guest
With our grievance and right to existence.”

“I think not,” said the Wizard to the fly

“But my kind are so weak.” squealed the bug.
“We are tossed about on the lightest wind.
Splattered without the slightest shrug,
By humans who murder us on a whim.”

“Tis’ no matter to me.” quipped the Wizard to the fly

“You do not understand,” cried the insect
“With legs like yours I could gain some thrust
Then make men pay for their gross neglect
By making them live like gnats in the dust.”

“You have legs enough.” growled the Wizard to the fly

“Is that all you can say you foolish man?”
Buzzing it’s wings that were almost dry.
“Perhaps I won’t need you to for my plan,
To take a sword and your oppression defy!”

“You would betray our hosts and slay me?
Then have the gall to seize their lands?
“I think not!” bellowed the Wizard
Squashing the fly between his hands.

Find more by G. B. Dent in the Author Index.

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