What a horrid life it seems to me,
To be the drone, a male bee,
Who lives for love and lust alone
For it hes bred, fed and grown.
But the bee to woo the Queen,
Is among many who scorned have been
He who tried and failed has flown away,
To chase and woo another day.
But cruel is fate to the bee,
Who finds that successful is he,
For though he gets to love, and do so well,
He dies from it, and so of it never gets to tell!