No post.
Spare a thought for the bumblebee
While he's sitting all alone
He wonders to the winter wind,
"Where is my daisy throne?"
The other insects laugh at him
For being big and bright
"Oh, you'll never find a flower.
There's never one in sight."
So Mr. Bee then tells them, "Please,
I only want one rose.
I'll even love its prickly thorns
And tell it jokes I know."
The other insects laugh at him
And carry on their way
But poor old Mr. Bumblebee
Has nowhere else to stay
He curls into a little ball
And softly starts to weep
So when the winds of spring first came
He'd cried himself to sleep
So when everything seems hopeless
And life is turning sour
Spare a thought for the bumblebee
Who woke up on a flower