These bees sting—they ornery are,
Bearing stickers. . .traversed in far.
Welts are mounting; I’ve stopped counting.
Swallowing now is hard.

Oh, darn my blunder: I walked right
Into the hive—"Oops! Oh shite!!!"
Pests receding leave me grieving,
My skin red, bumpy, and bright.

Bored they into the dermal plane
Of my crown, causing me much pain.
Not too clever, I’ll hurt ever;
Wish I had lidocaine.

Oh, darn my blunder: I walked right
Into the hive—then my plight.
Took a beating, now I’m bleating
And I’m an imperfect sight.

Frankly, dense when walking was I;
Incensed insects commenced to fly.
I was praying they’d stop flaying
My hide. . .felt I would die.

Oh, darn my blunder: I walked right
Into the hive—not too bright!
Took a beating though entreating
Guy on high to end my plight.

Mirth ain’t mine; embittered in gloom
Am I, staggering to bathroom.
Sorrowing, sighing, heaving, crying;
From cab’net I exhume

O-pioids, wondrous pills of white;
I’ll take five and feel just right.
Five I’m eating; not retreating
Is pain; relief less than slight.

Ten I vow will stanch all my sighs—
Down the hatch. . .a haze clouds my eyes.
Palliative palls my eyelids;
“Earth to John!” my wife cries.

Oh, darn my blunder: five was right;
Ten, too much, more than a mite.
Medics leaving, EReceiving. . .
Stomach-pumping starts tonight.