Tale of the Stung

When I was living on the farm,

     With nature’s heart attune

From ev’ry kind of evil there

     I felt I was immune.

I was the friend of snakes and round

     The hives of bees I hung,

And though I capered on their ground,

     I seldom e’er was stung.

How different is life in town

     Where now I spend my days;

I think I’m wise, and up to date,

Immune from bunco ways.

But O, these busy human bees,

     How sharp of wit and tongue!

No day I caper close to these

     But what I’m smartly stung!

Nov. 26, ‘09