Random StingsFrom "The Stinger."
The "Stinger's" a poet,Knows a sheep from a goa-et,And he stings at random all day;He thinks he's a honey,Because he's so funny—For reference see A. B. J.—Progressive Bee-KeeperNo, I'm not a poet,Neither did I know-et,Nor do I sting all the livelong day;Once a week I've some funMaking you folks jump and run—So, what more do you wish me to say?
The "Stinger's" a poet,Knows a sheep from a goa-et,And he stings at random all day;He thinks he's a honey,Because he's so funny—For reference see A. B. J.—Progressive Bee-KeeperNo, I'm not a poet,Neither did I know-et,Nor do I sting all the livelong day;Once a week I've some funMaking you folks jump and run—So, what more do you wish me to say?
The "Stinger's" a poet,Knows a sheep from a goa-et,And he stings at random all day;He thinks he's a honey,Because he's so funny—For reference see A. B. J.—Progressive Bee-Keeper
The "Stinger's" a poet,
Knows a sheep from a goa-et,
And he stings at random all day;
He thinks he's a honey,
Because he's so funny—
For reference see A. B. J.
—Progressive Bee-Keeper
No, I'm not a poet,Neither did I know-et,Nor do I sting all the livelong day;Once a week I've some funMaking you folks jump and run—So, what more do you wish me to say?
No, I'm not a poet,
Neither did I know-et,
Nor do I sting all the livelong day;
Once a week I've some fun
Making you folks jump and run—
So, what more do you wish me to say?
A certain editor reckoned without his host when he tried to heap more accomplishments upon Editor York than the latter was entitled too. Though Mr. York is a hard working man in the office of theBee Journal, he is saved the task of doing the stinging; which is, at times, hard work, for some of the people and things that "The Stinger" has to punctuate are pretty tough.
I think the reason why Editor York is not a "Stinger" is because he has not had much to do with the Punics. If he knew from practical demonstrations what those bees were, he would probably become a stinger, too. This is not intended as a joke on somebody's bees.
Rambler was hurt at last. For a time he was confined to the hospital, where I send all those who have been hit with my darts. He announced his injury in theBee Journalfor Dec. 7, 1893, page 730, and he thought the wound inflicted by me must have been produced by a ramrod out of my gun. If he had been hurt as badly as he admitted he was, I am surprised. When my sting penetrated his thick hide he must have seen stars, consequently, at the same time, he had no trouble in magnifying a sting into the proportions of a ramrod. I would say in a fatherly way: My dear Rambler, keep your nose from rambling around in the loose way that you have been letting it stray about, and there will be little danger of its running up against the sting of The Stinger.
Rambler says he smiled a "smole" when his nose came in contact with my "stinger." Stings seem to have the same effect upon him that laughing-gas has upon a patient in a dentist's chair. Rambler, beware, for have you not heard that "laughing often comes to crying?" The next time we mayhear from you, you may be sitting in a corner crying, because the sting got into your nose a little below the tip, and it is hurting you in a way that a sting never troubled you before.
The mission of The Stinger is to reform the bee-keeping world. (Did I hear you say that that is impossible, dear reader?) There is no man in the world that needs reforming more than the Rambler, and so his threats to expose me if I do not cease troubling him, fall upon me as uselessly as if he had never uttered them. For shame, on you, Rambler! to intimate that you will silence my pen. You might as well try to melt the snow on the tops of the high mountains away back of where you live, with that genial smile of yours, as to keep The Stinger from performing his mission. Rambler, beware of the day when I shall meet you in battle array.
Some one has sent me a copy of the December number of theCalifornia Cultivator and Poultry Keeper. It is a nice publication, but I do not see how it manages to live under such a load of a name. As it has a well edited apiary department, I imagine that the publisher will some day addBee-Keeperto the already long title.
A correspondent writes to know if The Stinger is a woman; she says she thinks The Stinger must be a female, because males do not sting. I would inform the fair writer, and all other persons who have doubts as to the sex of The Stinger, that he is a male; this male stings, if other males do not.
What is the difference between a swarm of bees and a sewing bee?
None, as far as buzzing is concerned.—Ex.
Charlie—"Papa, why is it that honey, money and funny rhyme?"
"I don't know, unless that it is often very funny to get honey out of a bee-hive when the bees are all about your head, and because it is worth all the money one gets for it to get the honey from the bees. I heard a man say that he would not take honey from bees at any price."
Charlie—"Well, that's funny."
Student in apicultural class at agricultural college—"Professor, why is it dangerous for a person with the blues to go into an apiary?"
Professor (perplexed)—"I do not know; the text-books do not say anything on the subject."
Student (with much glee)—Because bees are said to have a preference for blue!
"To be or not to be stung," might have been written by Shakespeare instead of all that stuff about shuffling off this mortal coil, that school boys are so fond of spouting on declamation days. If he had said that about the bees, and a little more too, we might now be classing the Bard of Avon as something of a bee-keeper; and perhaps we would be having a peep into his immortal works through the pages of our friend,Gleanings.
Mr. Maybee—I have read that a professor in one of our agricultural colleges says that there is considerable difference between the sting of a wasp and that of a bee.
Mrs. M.—I am not willing to take that learned man's word for it, as I was stung by both, and did not see the difference; both are too hot for me.