Theres Nothing Precious As the Bees
A Monotetra
You may see a fluttering bee,
in the forest, or on a leaf,
of some sweet and gummy tree;
leave him be, leave him be.
Perhaps he’ll hum around a flower,
in some green and mossy bower;
that little bee has oh, such power;
leave him be, leave him be.
He may alight upon a clover,
on the nose of your dog, Rover,
truly he will fly all over;
leave him be, leave him be.
Bees produce some wondrous honey,
thrilling to palate and tummy,
ever so deliciously yummy;
leave him be, leave him be.
Fuzzy little wuzzy things,
make honey that’s mouth-watering,
with tiny little ambitious wings;
leave him be, leave him be.
Little hexagonal houses, where they live,
cone for chewing, sweet treats to give;
distribute pollen, like a sieve;
leave him be, leave him be.
Honey is the healthy food,
sweetener that doesn’t change the mood,
it even makes great glue;
a friend is bee, a friend is bee.
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