"We toil, we sweat from early May"
"To lay up for a rainy day."
"Our cells we fill, and at the Fall"
"He sulphers us, and takes it all."
"So let us one and all deride"
"This honey thief, this Bee-i-cide."
"Up children, up! to swarm prepare"
"Whilst Master Dull sits snoring there."
"A devil he, upon my troth:"
"Buzz! buzz! Hum! Hum! The swarm is off!"

Fytte III. The Rivals

"Nothing like soup," is still the cry
In each well ordered family;
So on Christine the duty fell
To cull the herbs they love so well;
And every morn, the charming maid
Within her father's garden strayed,
Parsley to pluck, wherewith to make
The soup, which they at noon should take.

Her father's garden marched, I ween,
With that of Mr. Richard Dean;
A school-master by trade was he,
And she esteemed him – maidenly.
But by degrees, within her soul
A softer, tenderer passion stole;
Love – full of joy and full of sorrow,
Sunshine to day, and storm to-morrow, —
Love may forget a parsley bed,
And dream of golden flowers instead.

And so the maiden stooped to cull a
Crocus, and an auricula.
These flowers, together-bound, she placed
Just half a foot above her waist.

Then sat her down beneath the shade,
And thought about him – happy maid.
Now Mr. Dull a nephew had,
A most audacious, awkward lad;
Some fifteen summers he had seen
And still was very, very green.

Christine he eyed, and with desire
He felt his little soul on fire.
With cat like pace behind the wall
He crept (he was not near as tall.)

Leapt up, and from the affrighted Miss
Ravished the much desired kiss.

"Stop little monster", and a whack
Descended on his upturned back —
(The place I cannot more define
Within the limits of a line)
– Side, I should add, but wherefore tell
What every school-boy knows so well.
Dick Dean so roundly plied the stick
That rogue Eugene skedaddled quick.

Then Richard raised the fainting maid,
And many a tender thing he said;
Her chin he chucked, his arm he placed
About her little taper waist;

Her flowers admired, and begged them too:
Christine, she knew not what to do;

But blushed assent; the flowers he took,
And thanked her with an ardent look.

"Sweets are repaid by sweets I wiss",
He said, and he too had a kiss.
"Adieu and – au revoir – " to night

Pray let us meet, my heart's delight,
Behind your father's Bee-house, when
The Church-clock shall have sounded ten.
Eugene, still smarting with the cane,
His heart on fire, with jealous pain,

O'erheard the place of assignation,
And crept out from his hidden station;
Rushed to the Bee-house, found John Dull
Asleep, and snoring like a bull.
"Wake, Uncle, wake" in startling tone
He shouted, "for your swarm is gone."

Fytte IV. The Swarm

John Dull, awakened from his slumber,
Observed his stock's diminished number;
His apple trees he searched, and found
The swarm some ten feet from the ground;

Got his bee dress, his hive, and ladder;
No Bee master was ever gladder.

Mounted, and without any trip
Got all the bees within the skip —

"Well done I have them;" as he spoke
The ladder's top-most rung it broke,

Crack! Crack! and, as I hope to thrive,
The same befel the other five;

The bees rush forth and quit the hive!

John on his knees, and free from harm
Marked well the disappearing swarm.

Two boys were making pies of dirt
Close by, and playing with a squirt;
They squirted at the bees to stop 'em,
Squirted in vain; they could not drop 'em.

Old Sally met them with her mop,
And Sammy trumpeted, stop! stop!

And Dick and Bob and Bill they screeched,
But not a sound these flyers reached —

A Sweep upon the chimney top
Showered soot upon them, and cried "Stop!"

When they had cleared the churches roof,
Sam Dutton put his gun to proof;

John Dull came panting up behind
And could no other stopper find;

He stamped and swore and scratched his head,
"A pretty dance I have been led,"
"Confound the bees; I've got a warming"
Some way I'll find to stop their swarming;
A hive I'll build as big as two,
Sold by Mancubrian P.tt.gr.w.