The Coach and the Fly by Jean de La Fontaine

Upon a sandy, uphill road, / Which naked in the sunshine glow'd, / Six lusty horses drew a coach. / Dames, monks, and invalids, its load, / On foot, outside, at leisure trode. / The team, all weary, stopp'd and blow'd: / Whereon there did a fly approach, / And, with a vastly business air. / Cheer'd up the horses with his buzz, -- / Now pricked them here, now prick'd them there, / As neatly as a jockey does, -- / And thought the while -- he knew 'twas so -- / He made the team and carriage go, -- / On carriage-pole sometimes alighting -- / Or driver's nose -- and biting. / And when the whole did get in motion, / Confirm'd and settled in the notion, / He took, himself, the total glory, -- / Flew back and forth in wondrous hurry, / And, as he buzz'd about the cattle, / Seem'd like a sergeant in a battle, / The files and squadrons leading on / To where the victory is won. / Thus charged with all the commonweal, / This single fly began to feel / Responsibility too great, / And cares, a grievous crushing weight; / And made complaint that none would aid / The horses up the tedious hill -- / The monk his prayers at leisure said -- / Fine time to pray! -- the dames, at will, / Were singing songs -- not greatly needed! / Thus in their ears he sharply sang, / And notes of indignation ran, -- / Notes, after all, not greatly heeded. / Erelong the coach was on the top: / 'Now,' said the fly, 'my hearties, stop / And breathe; -- I've got you up the hill; / And Messrs. Horses, let me say, / I need not ask you if you will / A proper compensation pay.'

Thus certain ever-bustling noddies / Are seen in every great affair; / Important, swelling, busy-bodies, / And bores 'tis easier to bear / Than chase them from their needless care.[1]