Man's world is busy but what do I care!
There's nectar to gather and rain in the air.
Swiftly I go from hive to blooms
Guided by their sweet perfumes.

They belong to me. Each flower so fine
Each blushing rose, each bud is mine
To plunder with lover's touch so tender
Made fertile to bloom in season's splendor.

The Great Queen rules the bustling hive
Workers keep the young bees alive.
We feed them Jelly from our own Great Queen
And with nectar we wash them to be clean.

When they grow from grub to bee
A wondrous change in them there'll be,
A choice they make each one alone
To live as a worker or die as a drone.

One is destined to be the Queen's mate
In her chill embrace there lies his fate
For she lives a widow all her life
Great Queen, mother, not a wife

In Spring a restlessness enters the hive
The queen is fretful and though they strive
To please and placate the news is out
There'll be a swarm there is no doubt.

The queen's aloft! We swarm! We swarm!
Surrounded by workers to keep from harm
The Great Queen chooses another place
To grow the hive in a larger space.

In a beach side grotto the hive now hums
Near flowering wattle and blossom of gums.
The old queen died, a new one was found
Now wed, and widowed and truly encrowned.