A Bee and ME

I was having a picnic one day, you see,

when a nasty old bee started pestering me.

He buzzed 'round my food, my cakes, and my pies.

He tried to come down on the chicken I fried.

I waved my hands wildly to shoo him away,

but I was bewildered when I heard that bee say,

"Gee, young man, don't be so mean.

You act like you're afraid of my little, old sting."

Well, I shook my head in great disbelief,

because of what that bee had said to me.

"Not afraid of your little sting," I say,

"it's just that I'm having a picnic today.

Don't want any pesky bee around,

flying and making that buzzin' sound."

"What if I don't buzz at all?

What if I just stand quite still?"

"What if you just go fly away?

That would be a much happier way."

"Ah, come on, don't be such a grouch," he said,

and then that bee tried to land on my head.

Well, there I was in my own back yard,

feeling like a ding-a-ling.

Running and dipping and swooping,

because of that little bumblebee thing.

"What's wrong with you?" I heard my girl say,

"Aren't you enjoying your picnic today?"

Then the bee, he laughed, as he flew all around,

and yes, he still made that old buzzing sound.

I swatted and missed. I called that bee names,

all because he was playing bumblebee games.

And when my picnic was nearly all through,

I was tired, and that bee was looking a

might tired too.

But before he flew home, he had one thing to say,

"Thanks, my good buddy, for letting me play."