That scoundrel insect of the sea.

He set sail Sixteen Ninety-Two,

In a boat made of a woman’s shoe.

With hooked wing and three eyes patched

Whence he no treasure went unsnatched.

Stole crowns from unsuspecting queens,

Left unpaid tabs at all canteens.

Wooed the rich and then absconded

Before they learned he was not beau monded.

Nabbed artifacts from small museums

Oh, he was such an uncouth bee-um.

Til bad luck his path finally crossed

And out to sea he became lost.

For thirty days he drifted aimless

Concerned he would end up acclaimless.

However, on day thirty-one,

By the jeering light of a mock sun

He spotted an uncharted isle,

Whose coast curved the shape of a smile.

This seemed a fortuitous sighting

And the isle appeared inviting.

So he alighted on the beach

And orated a rousing speech.

“Men,” he said, though he was alone

“This day is soon to be well known.

As soon as I have made my berth

I’ll take this isle for all it’s worth!”

But aside from one lone palm tree

There was no booty for Dreaded Bee.

And so he bade the beach so long.

When something went horribly wrong.

Try as he may, and though perplex it,

He could not find the isle’s exit.

And Dreaded Bee ran out of luck

As on this isle he remained stuck.

So ends the tale of Dreaded Bee,

In a way that no one could foresee

The master of wicked and wangle