Out into the great great land of West,
a lad met a lady all dressed up in red.
"Ahoy now wait. Don't scurry away.
Take my hand and let me guide thy way."

She stopped short, startled in dismay.
"Now young lad, don't step beyond your grace.
I can do no such gest. It is best to tread alone this way."

The young scout, deaf to refusals at hand,
stepped closer, till she could feel that he was indeed a man.
"I'm no boy thou can fan away.
I give no flatterings to Love. Thou shalt follow me
till we both age or die young with disgrace"

With no buzz she followed his trace.
Her long red dress turned maroon with age.
Walk and walk, be sure to sing not to buzz.
"I'm no bee but a bird in a cage.
I have no freedom, I have no will.
I have no courage, no bravery.
The strength I took to trim my hair,
and wear hardy shoes and wander the woods,
is all gone in one moment's gloom.
Be it joy in the crooked man's eye.
Be is happiness woven into a ring.
Be it Time that will sew the wounds again,
and the scar, I will cherish till my dying day."

Like a hymn she would hum this tune.
Like Fate, he would carry her till he could
put her down and whisper gently and softly,
"Now my bird, we have come to a halt.
I see no light beyond the horizon. Thou made me believe
in such foolish games. I've danced to your tune.
Thou shalt sing no more, for I have no rythm in me.
Freedom is what I can give. Let Age carry you alone,
whilst it will let me sleep."

The bee in a bird's role could finally see,
The blossoms, soft and weak
are her residence,
not a weary man's cave with no sheets.