THE MUSKEETER
BY JOSH BILLINGS
Muskeeters are a game bug, but they won't bite at a
hook. Thare iz millyuns ov them kaught every year,
but not with a hook, this makes the market for them
unstiddy, the supply allways exceeding the demand. The
muskeeto iz born on the sly, and cums to maturity
quicker than enny other ov the domestik animiles. A
muskeeter at 3 hours old iz just az reddy and anxious
to go into bizzness for himself, az ever he iz, and
bites the fust time az sharp, and natral, as red pepper
duz. The muskeeter haz a good ear for musik, and sings
without notes. The song ov the muskeeto iz monotonous
to sum folks, but in me it stirs up the memorys ov
other days. I hav lade awake, all nite long, menny a
time and listened to the sweet anthems ov the muskeeter.
I am satisfied that thare want nothing made in vain,
but i kant help thinking how mighty kluss the musketoze
kum to it. The muskeeter haz inhabited this world
since its kreashun, and will probably hang around here
until bizzness closes. Whare the muskeeter goes to in
the winter iz a standing konumdrum, which all the
naturalists hav giv up, but we kno he dont go far,
for he iz on hand early each year with hiz probe fresh
ground, and polished. Muskeeters must be one ov the
luxurys ov life, they certainly aint one ov the
necessarys, not if we kno ourselfs.
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