Well it’s dead and tasty

Fred is dead, The nasty critter Yet bre felt bad For its death was bitter As sad as they were, It was plain to see, Fred was just as tasty As a fresh picked fruit from a tree His crisp little wings, His big beady eyes, Oh, The flavors he would bring They’d be quite a surprise Yet here we still stand With a dead little fly Just in bre’s hand The snack there to try