A Bumblebee Addiction
What makes a bee so busy,
In her humming little tizzy;
As she flies around the garden
in such awkward clumsy haste.
Why, the flowers are a buzzin’,
For a bumblebee’s good lovin’;
As she caresses all their petals
With her fuzzy legs and waist.
All the flowers get excited,
As she takes to flight, invited;
Buzzing round to pick another
With her drunken sort of gait.
So, that’s why a bee’s so busy,
In her humming little tizzy;
She’s addicted to their nectars
And their love intoxicates.
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