"O flies? you tickle the palm of my hand,
Be off and wrestle down in your world."
So they brought flowers and grass as a carpet,
Wrestling on as she sought for something--
Over hill and dale, through night and day, seeking for something.
"Your carpet is hot, be off, you flies."
So they brought her trees and water for cooling,
Wrestling on as she sought for something--
Over hill and dale, through night and day, seeking for something.
"The grass grows long with the water," she cried,