Bees work for man, and yet they never bruise Their Master's flower, but leave it having done, As fair as ever and as fit to use; So both the flower doth stay and honey run.

It was my uncle who taught me about the birds and the bees. He sat me down one day and said, 'Remember this, George, the birds fuck the bees.' Then he told me he once banged a girl so hard her freckles came off.

In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew?

Listen! O, listen! Here come the hum the golden bees Underneath full blossomed trees, At once with glowing fruit and flowers crowned.

How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower.

The pedigree of honey Does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him Is aristocracy.