Figaro in London, August 17, 1833.
’Tis the Last Fly of Summer.
’Tis the last fly of summer,
Left buzzing alone,
All its black-legged companions
Are dried up or gone:
Not one of its kindred,
No bluebottles nigh,
To sport ’mid the sugars,
Figaro in London, August 17, 1833.
’Tis the Last Fly of Summer.
’Tis the last fly of summer,
Left buzzing alone,
All its black-legged companions
Are dried up or gone:
Not one of its kindred,
No bluebottles nigh,
To sport ’mid the sugars,