HOW MOTHER LEARNED NATURAL HISTORY
One day while sitting on the beach
Talking of child training
With a most learned pedagogue
From whose lips were raining
Great torrents of most wondrous lore
Upon most subjects known,
My Mother learned one little fact
This wise man did not own—
And this through making a most sad
Acquaintance with a bee,
Who wore a yellow jacket suit
To show his family.
This stinging warrior with his stings
Felt nothing of alarm
And boldly marched beneath the lace
That covered Mother's arm.
And when she tried to let him out
He stung her o'er and o'er
As if he had a warrior band
Well armed with stings galore.
And when at last my Mother brave
Killed this most wicked bee
Her arm was, oh, so very sore,
With ten lumps I could see.
Said the professor solemnly
While gazing at her arm,
"I thought my Natural History said
That bees can do no harm;
If they but use their stingers once,
They ne'er can sting again.
But you've been stung by some insect
That carriers stingers ten."
"Oh, no," said Mother, with a smile,
"It had one stinger wee,
But now I call a yellow jacket,
'Sting ad finem bee.'"