Cow Island

Flossie stood, stood quietly, the early morning sun caressing and warming his soft white fleece. He sighed, closed his one good eye and drew a long, deep breath. A tiny black and yellow body buzzed about him, landed on his ear and preened and worked the pollen that hung from its velvet legs. Time drifted. He opened his eye again and gazed around him. The grass, strewn with diamond droplets, twinkled and shone. All was peace. Life was good. 'At last!' he bleated. '................Pastures new! 'Where?' asked Lefty. 'Here,' said Flossie. 'I thought they looked rather old,' replied Lefty. 'No, no I was speaking metaphorically,' said Flossie. 'Oh right!' replied Lefty. And once more Flossie closed his eye and breathed deeply. But the moment had passed and he simply got pollen up his nose which made him sneeze and the bee stung his ear. 'Right,' said Flossie, 'suppose we'd better get on with something?...

BEES There are little bees That wander by That buzzer by And zubber by That often make Me wonder why I walk upon the ground They zwizzer by And fizzer by They seem to have Such fun that I Will simply have to Learn to fly Above this silly ground They zipper by And whizzer by Full of nectar Sweet to try From flowers that are Swaying by The buzzy wuzzy sound But it's not fun The bees all cry Our little lives are Passing by And we are driven Crazy by Our zibby zubby sound We stumble by And tumble by Working all day long They sigh So we can make The honey That we bottle By the pound So I'll no longer Wisher by That I could Buzz and whizzer by I clearly have things easy I shall stay upon the ground! Thank you Horace