I fly like a learner that's been badly taught.
My gangly limbs make life really tricky,
and best to steer clear of anything sticky...
For I once had a friend called Lollop McFloutit,
who got his leg in some jam and flew off without it...
But friendships are fleeting, we aren't around long,
Born, Mate and Die; two weeks and we're gone.
So I cling to a wall until there's a Light,
then I hover and bother and give folks a fright.
Round and round until it gets dark,
the same every day, how's that for a lark?
And I know you all wonder what we actually do,