'Tis the scent attracts them there.
There they dexterously rifle
Nectar from each flow'r in bloom.
Toil they for our honey-harvest,
For us fill the honey-room.
Yes, our bees, our darling darlings,
We salute you all to-day;
For your life is our enjoyment—
Winter's sleep has pass'd away.
Grant prosperity, O Heaven!