The Fly

Little fly, thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand has brushed away
Am I not a fly like thee?
Or art thou not a man like me?

For I dance and drink and sing
Till some blind hand shall brush my wing
If thought is life and strength and breath
And the want of thought is death

Then I am a happy fly
If I live or if I die
Then I am a happy fly
If I live or if I die
Then I am a happy fly
If I live or if I die
Then I am a happy fly
If I live or if I die

Little fly, thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand has brushed away
Am I not a fly like thee?
Or art thou not a man like me?

For I dance and drink and sing
Till some blind hand shall brush my wing
If thought is life and strength and breath
And the want of thought is death

Then I am a happy fly
If I live or if I die
Then I am a happy fly
If I live or if I die
Then I am a happy fly
If I live or if I die
Then I am a happy fly
If I live or if I die