  Through the fields of nodding clover Comes a dainty little rover; On from bud to blossom hasting, Not the smallest moment wasting. Ever gay and uncomplaining, Nature's honeyed chalice draining; Merry little worker bee, Ev'ry day a jubilee. Past the "red-cap's" fragrant bower To a modest sister flower, In whose tender heart reposes All the sweets of all the roses; Then with golden trophies laden Homeward hums this busy maiden; Merry little worker bee, |
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