(The bug on your forehead, for Nat)
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You'll want to know, my dearest friend,
Before you go, please don't pretend.
It's hard to see, or speak of, true;
I see you have a bug on you.

The smallest thing, barely a spec,
Perhaps it bites, maybe it pecks.
Before it buzzed around and through,
pestering us, that bug on you.

Oh please! Don't move! I've got it now.
My shoe in hand, aim for the brow!
And with it's death I'll surely prove,
My power o'er that bug on you.

A mighty swing! The loudest clap!
Did you cry out? t'was just a slap!
And now it's nothing more than goo,
That former gnat, the bug on you.