The B*****d Fly

Here we bloody go again

A fly's got In the kitchen

With racquets now electric

Its time to do some swishing

Its like being back at Wimbledon

Say Murray versus fly 

It zig zags from the fruit bowl

Cat food and the pie

I lash with fore and back hand

The b*****d has no chance

I'm dodging, swiping like a fool

Just In my vest and pants

The b*****d then flies up the stairs

I wont be beaten yet

Its on the bedroom window

And landed on the net

The neighbour see's me In my pants

I look just like a wally

Another swish a direct hit

As I catch It on the volley

I leapt around the bedroom

Like Murray on the court

But I get back to the kitchen

Again I am distraught

I thought the game was over

When that b*****d fly lay dead

But the match Is still not over

There's another on the bread