The story behind this one is over on Music Only Dogs Can Hear, where you'll also find the lyrics—the whole sorry account of the breakfast table, the spilt orange juice, the Wheaties gone astray, and one housefly who was demonstrably better at this than I was.

The concert version gets to do something the pop version couldn't: give the fly his own music. I asked for a symphonic movement in presto tempo, so now the buzzing has an orchestra chasing it around the room.