A BEE-UTIFUL STORY
The honey bee so fuzzy yellow
Is a natty sort of fellow
It works all day in orange sun
Buzzing flowers for its fun
Too bad it stopped off on my shirt
A smashing hand with which to flirt
Now it's gone to meet its doom
I sweep its guts up with a broom
I'm sorry little honey bee
That Mr. Yellow messed with me.
It's that dang stinger. If they weren't so likely to use it, we'd be less likely to smash them. Oops
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