little fly
|
your summers play
|
my thoughtless hand
|
has brushed away
|
and ended your day
|
|
am I not a fly like you
|
are you not a man like me
|
oh I dance and drink and sing
|
till some hand tears off my wing
|
|
if thought is life and strength and breath
|
and the want of thought is death
|
then am I a happy fly?
|
if I live or if I die
|
|
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|
If I Live Or If I Die
|
| John Vanderslice |
