by Stephen Gold

“After bringing injured queen Phoebee home in July, Gilly McArthur expected her soon to die, but she’s bumbling on”
—The Guardian

Gilly found you half alive,
Beedraggled, far from hearth and hive.
You must have thought, “Death, where’s thy sting?”
But thanks to her, you’ve taken wing.

Even more beeguiling yet,
Your fame has flown across the net.
Phoebee, that’s a big surprise,
I thought nets were for butterflies.

As beefits a global star,
A queen, as well we know you are,
Be beenign towards your savior,
And mind you’re on your best beehavior.