Hillbilly Zen – Silly, Silly, Silly (The Ballad of Hank)


Silly, Silly, Silly

(The Ballad of Hank)


I sat on my back porch one morning,

drinking coffee and having a smoke.

Now this story is true,

I swear, although you

might think I am telling a joke.


The sun was up long before I was,

and really was getting too hot.

So I hauled myself up,

grabbing ashtray and cup,

to search for a cool, shady spot.


I settled in under a maple,

thinking “Yeah, this is where I should be!”

Then I heard a faint humming,

looked to see what was coming

just as Hank landed on my right knee.


I’ll confess I made quite a commotion

as I leapt from my seat ‘neath the tree.

Lots of yelling and fussing

(and a wee bit of cussing)

’cause Hank is a HUGE honeybee.


“Don’t be zcared,” he gasped,

plainly exhausted,

lying flat on his back in the grass.

“I’m in no zhape to zting you,

I can juzt barely cling to

thiz pollen that’z ztuck to my azz.”


He fluttered his little wings feebly,

after taking that ill-fated dive.

“Pleaze don’t kill me,” he pleaded,

“thiz pollen iz needed!

I’ve got to get back to the hive!”


Now I don’t claim to be a spring chicken,

this ain’t my first walk ‘round the block.

But it’s pure gospel truth,

though I’m long in the tooth,

I’ve never seen bees that could talk.


So I pitied the poor little buzzer,

trying so hard to just stay alive.

He told me his name,

I told him the same,

scooped him up and set off for his hive. 


He told me that bees get up early,

so this morning had been a great shock.

He’d slept in, overused

the button marked “Snooze”

on his minuscule honeybee clock.


As we walked, Hank revealed nature’s secrets,

things I never imagined I’d know:

why the sky fills with stars,

that there is life on Mars,

and what causes the breezes to blow.


I was just getting ready to ask him

something I’ve pondered for years;

how the Sun likes his coffee,

when Hank suddenly stopped me –

“I think I can make it from here.”


As I watched Hank fly off o’er the hillside,

and bid him a cheerful adieu,

I knew that this tale was a tall one.

No one would believe me,

do you?


So I sat down and wrote out this ballad for Hank,

I acknowledge that it’s quite a dilly.

Hadn’t been smoking chronic

or guzzling spring tonic,

sometimes…it’s just fun to be zilly.

bottom bee15


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