Buzz a Buzz: or, The Bees

The tresses of her flowing hair
They glitter like the purest gold;
And by her saffron cakes are sold.

Near is the pothouse where both grog
Is served to Bumble-Bees, and prog;
And when the Bumble-Bees get groggy,
Their intellect, like men's, is foggy.

On rose leaves they their letters write,
Here's one they either wrote or might.
"Great Queen, we hope you'll swarm to day";
"For 'is a lovely first of May."

The messenger this letter takes,
And eke a store of saffron cakes.

The Drones they neither work, nor can
Do aught but sleep on a divan;
And smoke their pipes through all the day;
Chibouks these love, and those a clay.
Such is their life – who would not be
A happy little worker Bee;
A Queen's too high for me, – a Drone,
Such laziness I let alone.

Fytte II. The Pig

Now Johnny Dull had once a pig, —
'T was far from fat, its bones were big.
To scratch his hide with all his might
Was this poor piggie's sole delight.

Once on a time it so fell out
He in the garden roamed about:
He chanced to have an itching mood;
The bee house quite convenient stood —

His hide he scratched; the bees rushed out,
And stung him well from tail to snout —
Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! poor piggie cried,
Feeling these daggers pierce his hide.

John Dull, who heard the awful clatter,
Said, "Bless the pig! why what's the matter?"

He came, – he saw – , his porker, that
Was erst all lean, was now all fat.

It chanced a pig-jobber that way
Was passing by; he stopped to say
"How much friend Dull for that fat pig?"
"Just ten pounds ten, for he is big" —
"Done" – "done again" – the bargain's struck —
John Dull he found himself in luck,

And blest his bees, and in their praise
He chanted forth these jocund lays.

Fly forth, dear Bees, 'tis morn, fly forth
To South, to North, to West, to East;
And cull from every fragrant flower
A honied feast.

Fly Home, dear Bees, 'tis Eve, fly home!
From North, from South, from East, from West;
Store in your cells your luscious spoil,
And sweetly rest.

The air is clear the day is warm,
John Dull sits watching for a swarm;

What's this? he thought; while I've been talking
My bees are all prepared for walking,
Staves in their hands, and on his back
Each carries his provision pack.

He strains his sight into the hole;
"They'll swarm to day – upon my soul."

His brain swims round, his eyes feel heavy,
He sees no more the increasing levee.

His nose, as down and down it drops,
His half used pipe of 'bacca stops. —

Buzz, buzz! – Hum, hum! a joyful sound,
Echoes the teeming hive around.
All gather at the trumpet's clang
To hear their noble Queen's harangue. —

"Up children up, to swarm prepare"
"The honey thief sits stinking there."
"And we who love the scent of roses"
"Have stale tobacco in our noses."
"We toil, we sweat from early May"
"To lay up for a rainy day."
"Our cells we fill, and at the Fall"
"He sulphers us, and takes it all."
"So let us one and all deride"