Little black fly

Michael Mathieson lead singer and guitarist with Mad Dog Mcrea, who do a particularly good version of Black Fly.

When it’s hot day after day, I take Moss into the woods for her morning walk, simply because it’s cooler that way.  I’m walking along deep in thought, when a little black fly starts buzzing right in front of me. 

It doesn’t leave me. 

I chuckle to myself; this is exactly what happened last year, and probably the year before that too …

Each time it reminds me of the song Little black fly by Canadian folk singer songwriter Wade Hemsworth (1916-2002). Except the version I hear in my mind, is sung by Devon based folk band Mad Dog Mcrea.

I wish that I could sing it out loud myself, but singing is not exactly my strength.  So, I content myself with humming.

I love it that songs tell stories.  Here are the lyrics - it’s actually the chorus that I have in my mind.

’twas early in the spring when I decide to goFor to work up in the woods in north On-tar-i-oThe unemployment office said they’d send me throughTo the little Abitibi with the survey crew

CHORUS

And the black fly, the little black flyAlways the black fly, no matter where you goI’ll die with the black fly a-pickin’ my bonesIn north On-tar-i-o-i-o, in north On-tar-i-o

Now the man, Black Toby was the captain of the crewAnd he said, “I’m gonna tell you boys what we’re gonna doThey want to build a power dam and we must find a wayFor to make the little ab flow around the other way”

So we survey to the east and we survey to the westAnd we couldn’t make our minds up how to do it bestLittle Ab, little Ab, what shall I doFor I’m all but goin’ crazy on the survey crew

It was black fly, black fly everywhereA-crawlin’ in your whiskers, a-crawlin’ in your hairA-swimmin’ in the soup, and a’swimmin in the teaOh the devil take the black fly and let me be

At last the job was over, black toby said, we’re throughWith the little Abitibi and the survey crew’twas a wonderful experience and this i knowI’ll never go again to north Ontar-i-o

~ ~ ~

The little black fly goes on dancing in front of my face.

I think to myself, isn’t it good that seasons bring different natural happenings; bluebells in April, the first frosts in November, mad March hares …

But we don’t exactly celebrate the fly season, do we?

And then, as if to prove a point, a little black fly flies right up my nose and makes me splutter … and Moss looks up at me quizzically.

AJK

Whoops - we couldn't get Black Fly so here's Bee's Wing by Mad Dog Mcrea.