Pome

[orinoco77]

I couldn't resist doing this, after a reply I made to sloopjonb. It's quite long.



Eric was a bumble bee, complete as he could be,
Indeed, in all the hive, no bee was more complete than he,
He lived his life in solitude, apart from all the clamour,
He wasn't one for valiance, romantic dreams or glamour.

The courage of his fellow bees was just a dream to Eric,
His fuzzy tum was yellow and his heart was less than ferric,
From this and many more accounts, it's surely plain to see,
Why the bullies of the beehive called him Eric Half-a-bee.

Now, Wendolyn the bee-maid was the loveliest you'll see,
She'd quite captured the fragile heart of Eric Half-a-bee,
Together they would buzz around an ancient Vauxhall Viva,
And by the day-glo speedo light, they both caught disco fever,
The Viva had a glitter ball, hung lightly from the ceiling,
And Eric danced with Wendolyn, with passion, flair and feeling.

The ballad on the stereo told the tale of Mack the Knife,
And Wendolyn began to think there might be more to life.
She loved young Eric dearly, but he'd never be a rebel,
She wanted a bee with rakish charm, not a shy bee on the level.

So she dallied in the Viva with a monster bee named Wayne,
He was twice the size of Eric, and then half as big again.
This fuzzy, stripy zeppelin damned near blocked out the sun,
He stole away our maiden fair, and had himself some fun.

When Eric heard this sordid tale his tiny heart was broken,
He begged the bees upon his knees, "Please tell me that you're jokin'!"
He would have planned revenge against this brutal, monster bee,
But, in all the world, there was no bee more cowardly than he,
So, instead, poor Eric stewed and fretted, sobbing all the while,
And thought about that bastard Wayne, and all his vices vile.

Wayne and Wendolyn were married in a grand bee ceremony,
And to everyone it seemed that they were happy as could be,
Poor Eric's heart was cleft anew as he could but bear witness,
To Wayne's vict'ry o'er "Half-a-bee"; it caused him quite a sickness.

Some time passed and Eric yearned for his fair Wendolyn,
One day he passed a people-house and heard a scream within,
It was the voice of Wendolyn, a-shrieking for her life,
Wayne was drunk on nectar and was beating on his wife.

Now Eric, as we've pointed out, was not the bravest fellow,
But in this case, he'll prove us wrong; he'll show us he's not yellow.
He found a window, bumbled in and looked around for Wayne,
He saw the blighter by a chair, and vowed to cause him pain.
He hurtled at his massive foe, like a tiny bat from hell,
And clobbered him with all his might (and a dainty vase as well).

Wayne was caught off-guard, he hadn't counted on his rival,
Eric was a bee-shaped blur, soon Wayne fought for survival.
All the while the pair edged nearer to a people cleaning lady,
She saw the bees and steeled herself, her hoover at the ready.

Eric chased his enemy like a champ, his heart and soul committed,
The blows he aimed were far outside what the queensbury rules permitted,
The cleaning lady shuffled nearer, like a bee grim reaper,
If the hoover wouldn't do the job, she'd mash them with her sweeper.

Now Eric was oblivious to this impending danger,
He didn't see the hoover, what bee-fate could be stranger?
He herded Wayne towards the ground, to keep him from escaping,
The people-maid followed the pair, in spite of all their strafing,
She swooped on Wayne and sucked him up, inside her mighty hoover,
Reminding Eric of "Blue Danube" and a stately docking maneouvre.

Poor Wayne he was an enormous bee, his body clogged the hose,
And, with his death, spared Eric's life, or so the tale goes,
For lack of suction saved the day, and off young Eric sped,
To Wendolyn, the fairest bee, that ever unwisely wed.

Bee-tales are told and ballads sung of this, our legend true,
Of Eric, Wayne and Wendolyn, and how by derring-do,
Our hero won his lady fair, lived happily ever after,
As the greatest hero of the hive, in love and fun and laughter.

Comments

[sloopjonb.livejournal.com]

Oh, what a glorious thing to be/The writer of a pome about half a bee/With many funny rhymes and jokes/It proves that pomes can be wrote by blokes/It also shows - and this is a big 'un/There is intelligent life in Wigan.

That's very good, you know. Eric/ferric ... masterly. Just slightly jealous here.

Erm - which reply was it in reference to, exactly?

[orinoco77.livejournal.com]

I was referring to the reply I made to your post about afp, where I mentioned I was as happy with references to Monty Python, Meatloaf and Arthur C. Clarke, as the highbrow ones I don't remember. Just thought I'd throw something together and Eric Idle's song about half a bee came to mind.

Glad you liked it :)