Away from home in the open air.
Now I maintain that it can't be right,
When there isn't a single wasp in sight,
To have mint-sauce and a joint of lamb,
Some currant cake and a pot of jam,
A gooseberry tart, with sugar and cream,
And some salad dressing, a bottled dream—
All the things that a wasp loves best
When he buzzes away from his hidden nest;
And you all shout "Wasp!" and flick at the fellow,