Clothing moths, we are not like the fruit fly
(We admit with orange eyes they're a cute fly)
We shun froth, just ask any astute fly,
We eat sweaters and shirts, even hats.
Can't stand fruit, we eat dry, suits us better,
Like your suits; we don't fancy things wetter.
And we love old skin flakes from a shedder,
Like that guy who wears Mexican hats. Olé!
We can't stand foam or froth.
Our favorite food's 'whole cloth'.
The hats and suits you doff
Are a family meal for the moth.
As adults we don't need feed our offspring.
We just mate, and do things of that ilk.
Don't fly much, legs we lay,
Larvae hatch, and then they
Ravage cotton and woollens and silk.
Clothing moths! Live like toffs.
We're just snobs - Tineolas,
We play our violas,
While your old sombreros we doff.
Feel voracious? Please look you old meany
We're your dinner guests though we're quite teeny,
We'll infest your old box of 'linguini'.
But don't like your rendition of 'sauce'.
REPRISE:
We can't stand foam or froth.
Our favorite food's 'whole cloth'.
The hats and suits you doff
Are a family meal for the moth.
Now in closing... your sweaters are tatters,
The scraps literally filled up our platters.
We're engorged on keratinous matter.
Like your silk and wool suits
(We've ignored leather boots),
Left large holes in chapeaux made of cloth.
That's the work of the quirky clothes moth. Olé!
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