There once was a man named Kotter
Who’s occupation was that of a potter
He was perturbed one day
A fly got in his clay
And he sat down and invented the ‘swatter.
He thought about a ping pong paddle
And with pen in hand he would dabble
Such time it would take
For a paddle to make
To be practical for all kinds of rabble.
Tennis rackets were too large to use
Even though the shape Kotter did peruse
The strings were so taut
That useful it was not
Because it just cut the insects in twos.
The baseball bat was too thin
In frustration he scratched at his chin
The ideas he’d tried
Had come from outside
And this one must come from within
So he gave up on the idea for the day
Saw another fly not too far away
A spatula he got
The new fly he sought
And behold there the dead fly did lay.
The moral of the story is this:
When there’s a fly buzzing, don’t be amiss
Pick up anything
And just give it a swing
And hopefully you will not miss.
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