Mouche Ado...? Poem by Malcolm Wheatman

'There's a fly in my tea, ' said I,
Trying to catch the waitress's eye.
Eventually she came, but upset my cup,
And sullenly asked, 'Whatever's up? '
I said, 'I said, 'There's a fly in my tea'.'
She pursed her lips. 'It's nothing to do with me, '
She said. 'But now, ' I replied, 'there's tea in my fly,
Thanks to you. I just can't let this mishap go by, '
And uttered a groan for my sensitive zone.
As for the fly in the tea in my fly... it had flown!