My name is Lucius Cavendish, Bee Whisperer of Note.
Perhaps you’ve seen me on TV, or papers that I wrote.
You may think my work Quixotic, I assure you that’s a myth;
And I will here endeavor to convince you all forthwith.
Now fear is quite ubiquitous, at least in humankind.
It has to do with mucked up senses (heralds of the mind);
as in: melissophobia, the terror of our bees.
The very thought of fuzz with wings might bring men to their knees!
For all intents and purposes the bees command our hope.
Without them we would have no crops, nor any form of dope!
And yet their tiny stingers, all defensive I might add,
make people not distinguish twixt the good bees and the bad!
They spray their mass insecticides; perfunctory abuse!
They want their apples hole-less, and their oranges plump with juice!
While killing off malicious pests, they know not what they’ve done.
They’ve poisoned all the honey bees, and one day there’ll be none!
The governments around the world did abrogate their charge;
“We promise to protect you!” (“and then bill you all at large”)
I filed the invoice on receipt, and sent this in its place;
“Please stop the chemist genocide upon the human race!”
Unlike a well tossed yo-yo, my announcement flew one way.
I haven’t heard but idle threats: “Please send a check TODAY!”
And so I learned to whisper, in the jungles of Belize.
My mastery came quid pro quo; (I traded Gouda cheese.)
I whisper for the little bees, the larvae of the hatch;
For one brown recluse spider, that he has a meal to catch.
I’ve whispered now for 30 years, I seem to have no clout.
So if you don’t stop killing bees, I’ll have to scream and shout!