From the hollow trees in their native home
them old fellows cut the honeycomb.
On honey and little white grubs they fed,
'cause them young bees was blackfeller's bread.
That's why they was so mighty and strong
in their native home in Currarong.
An' them old fellers' drink was honey-bul;
honey and water, a coolamon full.
Naked through the bush they went,
an' never knew what sickness meant,
them native bees could do you no harm,
they'd crawl all over your honey-smeared arm.
But them Eyetalian bees, they'd bung
your eyes right up. When we was young
we used to rob their honey-trees,
Savage! they'd fetch your blood, Them bees
would zoom an' zing an' chase a feller
from Bombaderry to Bodalla
Well Old Uncle Ninah, and Billy Bulloo
Old Jacky Mumbulla, King Merriman too,
them fierce old fellers, they're all gone now.
An' the wild honey's still in the gumtree bough.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Bees by Roland Robinson )
- Left Before She Was Found, Sierra Staten
- Child in Me, Sierra Staten
- Of the Seven Deadly Sins- Jealousy, Emily Liang
- Crashed Thrones, Abby Bilan
- BMO, A.R Evangelista
- Let it remain, hasmukh amathalal
- Miracle over, hasmukh amathalal
- In The Eyes Of The Lord, Tom Zart
- My feelings, hasmukh amathalal
- Real meditation, hasmukh amathalal
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Autumn Days, Heather Burns
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
- Heather Burns
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)