If I Were a Bumblebee

My eight-legged friend Webster, who lives in his web in the rose bush at the bottom of my garden, has been wondering what it would be like if he could fly. And if he could fly, what sort of flying creature would he like to be … to be … to bee? And he came up with this poem:

If I were a bumblebee,
Would I be a humblebee?
A grumpy, grouchy grumblebee?
A clumsy, bumble-stumblebee?
A muttering, murmuring mumblebee?
A tough and rough-and-tumblebee?
Or a paunchy, portly, chuckly, chortly, full of apple crumblebee?

And if anyone thinks that spiders don’t eat apple crumble – just try offering one a spoonful. If you hear it say: “No thank you, I really couldn’t.”, I’ll eat my hat.