Letter X. From The Blue-Bottle Fly To The Grasshopper. (The Bird And Insects' Post-Office.)

(CHARLES BLOOMFIELD.) I. As I roamed t'other day, Neighbour Hop, in my way I discovered a nice rotten plum, Which you know is a treat; And, to taste of the sweet, A swarm of relations had come. II. So we all settled round, As it lay on the ground, And were feasting ourselves with delight; But, for want of more thought To have watched, as we ought, We were suddenly seized—and held tight. III. In a human clenched hand, Where, unable to stand, We were twisted and tumbled about; But, perceiving a chink, You will readily think I exerted myself—I got out. IV. How the rest got away I really can't say; But I flew with such ardour and glee. That again, unawares, I got into the snares Of my foe Mr. Spider, you see; V. Who so fiercely came out Of his hole, that no doubt He expected that I was secure: But he found 'twould not do, For I forced my way through, Overjoyed on escaping, you're sure. VI. But I'll now take my leave, For the clouds I perceive Are darkening over the sky; The sun has gone in, And I really begin To feel it grow colder.—Good bye! I'm, as ever, yours, BLUE-BOTTLE FLY.