Ballad of the Bees

I've decided that as I create this blog, I am not only going to write new things, but I'll share some of what I have created over the years... my first little tidbit, then, is this little ditty I wrote back in '04, a tribute to endurance:

Ballad of the Bees

All bees must contrive
To share with family their hive.
It's a tight-knit honeycomb cave.

And though there isn't much space,
Each bee has his place,
The position which fate each bee gave.

Here is the case,
In one honeybee place,
Of a drone with the simple name Dave

And his sidekick and mate,
A boy bee named Nate.
Out of thousands, they were merely two slaves

To a queen bee named Kate
Who had chosen a date
For inception before ending her life.

Round the hive went a note,
And it said, and I quote,
“Come and race to make Queen Kate your wife.”

Now Dave was excited,
For he'd been invited
To an occasion so utterly rare.

With a grin on his face,
He said, “If I win that race,
I'll ride her like she was my mare!”

“That's all good and fine,
But on Queen Kate I'll dine
When the race is done,” said Nate,

“For though you're quick at the start,
To win the queen's heart,
One must fly at the steadiest rate.”

With their fate undecided,
A cloud of bees glided
Into starting position to race,

And they followed Queen Kate
Right out the front gate
With most fearsome looks on their face.

Then Kate flew straight up.
“If you want to shtup,”
She said with a gleam in her eye,

“Then it's straight to the top
Of the world and don't stop
Till you get me between my six thighs.”

Dave was determined
To bring Kate to term in
The timliest manner he could,

So he flew high and far
And went straight for the stars,
Thinking, “I'll father those children but good!”

And Nate flew along,
Just singing a song,
On his face, a calm, simple smile.

With no feeling of strife,
Though this race meant his life,
He must have flown two or three miles.

Now the air it grew thin,
And Dave's breath did begin
To grow short and his heart it did pound.

Suffering heart attack,
Dave resembled a sack
As he fell rapidly to the ground.

With his best friend long gone,
Our man Nate did press on,
And soon overtake'd the queen.

And he filled her but good
With the sap from his wood,
The most juice a queen bee has e'er seen.