Lazy Carder Bee
Mom says we're carder bees becuz
We're s'posed to card (or comb) plant blooms,
To get a bunch of fiber fuzz
To build the walls around the rooms
Of what Mom calls the bee all home,
Hidden away in some dull place.
I bee too busy to card (comb) .
I tell Mom that I need my space,
I need to fly and not be tied
To a mother's fuzz apron strings.
Mad Mom takes aim at my backside,
So I take off before she stings.
As I buzz off, Mom yells at me,
'You're one worthless son of a bee.'
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Comments about this poem (Lazy Carder Bee by Ima Ryma )
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