More of the buggers, but not yet a horde. Still waiting; in the meantime, I finally tracked down the lyrics to that rap song by the Pheromones (found here, amid some commentary that you may want to skip over completely). It may not be a perfect reproduction of the original text, though.
Catch all y'all on Sunday, most likely: I have a wedding in NJ to go to tomorrow and a SCA event back in MD on Saturday. Arrgh.
Moe
They got big orange eyes that can barely focus,
Some folks call them 17 year locust,
But that’s the wrong data,
The name is cicada
And they’re here now but they won’t be here later.
They got 4 wings but aint supposed to fly
Just come out the ground, have sex and die.
I can dig their ridge, I like their style,
They may go quick, but they go with a smile.
Check it out, Cicada serenade,
Check it out Cicada serenade,
There’s Cicadas on the sidewalk, cicadas on the ground
Place look like a little tiny Jones Town,
I always hate to see a thing go to waste,
And was wondering how a cicada might taste.
Cicada, Potata, They sound the same,
To let em go to waste would be a crying shame.
So I got a couple of hundred of em, took em in side,
Got some catsup and ate em french fried.
I ate every one with out hesitatin
Next thing you know I’m halusinatin
Freaking out, Cicada serenade
Freaking out, Cicada serenade
I was out of my mind, my head was in a fog
Next thing you know I’m sick as a dog.
My friends came over they said “lets get high”
I said “no way” and they said “by-by”
I don’t need no lovely, no reefer, no cocaine
Cause I still have cicadas buzzing round in my brain.
So eat your cicadas with every snack,
They can also help you say no to crack!
Bugs, not drugs.
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