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The wasp he is a nasty one
He scavenges and thrives,
Unlike the honest honey bee
He doesn`t care for hives.
He builds his waxy nest
Then brings his MATES from near and far
To SNEAK into your house
When you have left the door ajar.

Then sniffing round for jam he goes, (would they be TITLE DEEDS or near enough)
In every pot and packet,
Buzzing round the kitchen
In his black and yellow jacket.
If with a rolled-up paper
He should spot you creeping near
He will do a somersault
And sting you on the ear!

You never know with wasps
You can`t relax, NOT FOR A MINUTE
Whatever you pick up – Look out!
A wasp might still be in it.
You never even know
If there`s a wasp against your chest,
For wasps are very fond
Of getting folded in your vest.
And he always comes in summer.
In the winter-time he`s gone
When you never go on Picnics
And you`ve put a jersey on.
Causes panic and despair
Like someone saying, ‘Keep still!
There`s a wasp caught in your hair!’

But in a speeding car
He finds his favourite abode,
He likes poor Dad to swat like mad
And veer across the road.
He likes to watch Dad`s face,
As all the kids begin to shout,
‘Dad! I don`t like wasps!
Oh where`s he gone, Dad? Get him out!’

And I`d like to make a reference
To all the men who say
And the wasp will go away,’
For I`ve done a little survey
To see if it will or won`t,
And they sting you if you hit them
And they sting you if you don`t.

As we step into the sunshine
Through the summers and the springs,
Carrying our cardigans
And nursing all our stings,
I often wonder, reaching for the blue bag
Just once more,
If all things have a purpose
What on earth can wasps be for?



Chapter 23

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