"My dearest friend Peter,
As your guests we greet yer,
And mean to stick to you as tight as a leech;
For the bright sun will fry us
All the meat you supply us.
Oh, you're now in such excellent season,
That for months we'll contrive,
If the crows don't arrive,
To repast, though our numbers increase on.
Now don't look so sulky,—recollect how you used us—