The Earwig a poem in unmetered rhyming couplets Not a wig for bald ears as one might expect but, save for antennae, a hairless insect. With pincers extending from its derriere (your own would be judged comparatively bare) for pinching and hauling of incubating eggs and, of course, as an insect they have just six legs. Their repugnatory glands should not be omitted capable of squirting a foul-smelling liquid, They do have short wings, though they rarely fly, I'd go looking for one in May, June, or July. Their hard-shelled carapace is yellowish brown, they're fond of fruit on the branch and the ground. If you're growing a garden, you'd wish they were fewer, You find them in cracks and in heaps of manure. As for the source of their odd-sounding names, In all honesty, who'd rather call them James?