(Part three)
The car oft kept hives from rain, mud, and dust,
To protect from chemicals was a definite must,
My car carried several one hot, dry day,
As I traveled a dusty road along my way,
A crop duster was working in a nearby field,
I waited patiently for his flagman to yield,
When I decided I could no longer wait,
I proceeded quickly but I could feel the hate,
A dust cloud rose into the calm sky,
The flagman was concealed as I went by,
Above the road the pilot soared,
And on my car a bulls-eye scored,
He dumped on my car his chemical load,
A clear warning he gave, “Stay off my road!”
“Curse you, Red Baron,” as I raised my fist,
“I’ll take you off of my Christmas list,”
Although the bees were safe, my pride was not,
And over time the incident forgot,
But occasionally when my anger rose,
This is how my imagination goes,
A bee would tap my shoulder and say,
“We don’t want any problems today,
Keep it cool or you will be out of luck,
We won’t ride again in your red bee truck,
We want you to keep things peaceful and calm,
We sure don’t need another chemical bomb,”
Although I thought they were being a little absurd,
I promised to be good and kept my word.
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