Whilst in my garden, I could hear
a noisy sobbing sound quite near.
Investigation proved my fears
A creature crying many tears!
‘Why so unhappy, little bug? ’
I gave him just the smallest hug.
‘You don’t know what it’s like for me
to be a stripeless Bumble Bee! ’
‘Now cheer yourself, do stop those gripes!
I’ve just the thing for missing stripes! ’
I pulled a crayon from my case
Which put a smile upon his face.
I painted stripes in latitude
But met with some ingratitude:
He got quite cross, I thought him fickle
(or possibly the crayon tickled?)
But that was not the half of it!
Sometimes I really am a twit.
I retreated, scarce myself to make,
for I’d painted blue stripes, by mistake.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem