BUMBLE BEE.

Won’t you flutter by
Little butterfly,
The bumble bee is feeling down.
He has lost his sting, on a human thing,
And now he cannot get uptown.

He has made his home near the torrents of a drain,
If you don’t call by soon he’ll be washed down with the rain.

Oh won’t you pass on by
Mighty dragonfly,
And give this humble bee some cheer,
For he just lies in bed, with his fragile head,
Afraid to change his atmosphere.

He has said that this is his final resting place,
For he says that once his sting has gone
His life will ebb away, at no uncertain pace,
He sees it as a race:
As the rainy season is near, he don’t want to drown down here…

Won’t you all come by,
Oh little things that fly,
And give the bumble bee you know a lift.
Take him out of here, somewhere he need not fear,
Oh give him this your final gift.

And when he’s in the air, passed the gardens and the plains,
Pollinate the flowing wonder, and the dandelions’ mane.