The happy death of bumble bees

Through my window I can see
a very tipsy bumble bee
flying against my window pane
trying to turn round in vain

There's a lovely tree in bloom
hundred insects' dining room
in the nick of time they leave
but there is a feathered thief

and the greedy bumble bee
intoxicated from the tree
knocks and knocks against the glass
sounds like metal, sounds like brass

one last try and down it falls
to the ground, I hear the calls
of two magpies without pity
one less insect in the city

I inspect the pavement clearly
covered with dead bumble bees
what a lovely death they had
softly falling out of trees

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