Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, FESSLER'S BEES, by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY


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FESSLER'S BEES, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Talkin' bout yer bees,' says ike
Last Line: "fore he went to floridy!"
Alternate Author Name(s): Johnson Of Boone, Benj. F.
Subject(s): Bees; Honey; Insects; Beekeeping; Bugs


"TALKIN' 'bout yer bees," says Ike,
Speakin' slow and ser'ous-like,
"D' ever tell you 'bout old 'Bee' --
Old 'Bee' Fessler?" Ike says-he!
"Might call him a bee-expert,
When it come to handlin' bees, --
Roll the sleeves up of his shirt
And wade in amongst the trees
Where a swarm 'u'd settle, and --
Blam'dest man on top of dirt! --
Rake 'em with his naked hand
Right back in the hive ag'in,
Jes' as easy as you please!
Nary bee 'at split the breeze
Ever jabbed a stinger in
Old 'Bee' Fessler -- jes' in fun,
Er in airnest -- nary one! --
Couldn't agg one on to, nuther,
Ary one way er the other!

"Old 'Bee' Fessler," Ike says-he,
"Made a speshyality
Jes' o' bees; and built a shed --
Len'th about a half a mild!
Had about a thousan' head
O' hives, I reckon -- tame and wild!
Durndest buzzin' ever wuz --
Wuss'n telegraph-poles does
When they're sockin' home the news
Tight as they kin let 'er loose!
Visitors rag out and come
Clean from town to hear 'em hum,
And stop at the kivered bridge;
But wuz some 'u'd cross the ridge
Allus, and go clos'ter -- so's
They could see 'em hum, I s'pose!
'Peared-like strangers down that track
Allus met folks comin' back
Lookin' extry fat and hearty
Fer a city picnic party!

"'Fore he went to Floridy,
Old 'Bee' Fessler," Ike says-he --
"Old 'Bee' Fessler couldn't bide
Children on his place," says Ike.
"Yit, fer all, they'd climb inside
And tromp round there, keerless-like,
In their bare feet. 'Bee' could tell
Ev'ry town-boy by his yell --
So 's 'at when they bounced the fence,
Didn't make no difference!
He'd jes' git down on one knee
In the grass and pat the bee! --
And, ef 't 'adn't stayed stuck in,
Fess' 'u'd set the sting ag'in,
'N' potter off, and wait around
Fer the old famillyer sound.
Allus boys there, more or less,
Scootin' round the premises!
When the buckwheat wuz in bloom,
Lawzy! how them bees 'u'd boom
Round the boys 'at crossed that way
Fer the crick on Saturday!
Never seemed to me su'prisin'
'At the sting o' bees 'uz p'izin!

"'Fore he went to Floridy,"
Ike says, "nothin' 'bout a bee
'At old Fessler didn't know, --
W'y, it jes' 'peared-like 'at he
Knowed their language, high and low:
Claimed he told jes' by their buzz
What their wants and wishes wuz!
Peek in them-air little holes
Round the porches o' the hive --
Drat their pesky little souls! --
Could 'a' skinned the man alive!
Bore right in there with his thumb,
And squat down and scrape the gum
Outen ev'ry hole, and blow
'N' bresh the crumbs off, don't you know!
Take the roof off, and slide back
Them-air glass concerns they pack
Full o'honey, and jes' lean
'N' grabble 'mongst 'em fer the queen!
Fetch her out and show you to her --
Jes', you might say, interview her!

"Year er two," says Ike, says-he,
"'Fore he went to Floridy,
Fessler struck the theory,
Honey was the same as love --
You could make it day and night:
Said them bees o' his could be
Got jes' twic't the work out of
Ef a feller managed right.
He contended ef bees found
Blossoms all the year around,
He could git 'em down at once
To work all the winter months
Same as summer. So, one fall,
When their summer's work wuz done,
'Bee' turns in and robs 'em all;
Loads the hives then, one by one,
On the cyars, and 'lowed he'd see
Ef bees loafed in Floridy!
Said he bet he'd know the reason
Ef his didn't work that season!

"And," says Ike, "it's jes'," says-he,
"Like old Fessler says to me:
'Any man kin fool a bee,
Git him down in Floridy!'
'Peared at fust, as old 'Bee' said.
Fer to kind o' turn their head
Fer a spell; but, bless you! they
Didn't lose a half a day
Altogether! -- Jes' lit in
Them-air tropics, and them-air
Cacktusses a-ripen-nin',
'N' magnolyers, and sweet peas,
'N' simmon and pineapple trees,
'N' ripe bananers, here and there,
'N' dates a-danglin' in the breeze,
'N' figs and reezins ev'rywhere,
All waitin's jes' fer Fessler's bees!
'N' Fessler's bees, with gaumy wings,
A-gittin' down and whoopin' things! --
Fessler kind o' overseein'
'Em, and sort o' 'hee-o-heein'!'

"'Fore he went to Floridy,
Old 'Bee' Fessler," Ike says-he,
"Wuzn't counted, jes' to say,
Mean er or'n'ry anyway;
On'y ev'ry 'tarnel dime
'At 'u'd pass him on the road
He'd ketch up with, ev'ry time;
And no mortal ever knowed
Him to spend a copper cent --
'Less on some fool-'speriment
With them bees -- like that-un he
Played on 'em in Floridy.
Fess', of course, he tuck his ease,
But 'twus bilious on the bees!
Sweat, you know, 'u'd jes' stand out
On their forreds -- pant and groan,
And grunt round and limp about! --
And old 'Bee,' o' course, a-knowin'
'Twuzn't no fair shake to play
On them pore dumb insecks, ner
To abuse 'em thataway.
Bees has rights, I'm here to say,
And that's all they ast him fer!
Man as mean as that, jes' 'pears,
Could 'a' worked bees on the sheers!
Cleared big money -- well, I guess,
'Bee' shipped honey, more er less,
Into ev'ry state, perhaps,
Ever putt down in the maps!

"But by time he fetched 'em back
In the spring ag'in," says Ike,
"They wuz actin' s'picious-like:
Though they 'peared to lost the track
O' ev'rything they saw er heard,
They'd lay round the porch, and gap'
At their shadders in the sun,
Do-less like, ontel some bird
Suddently 'u'd maybe drap
In a bloomin' churry tree,
Twitterin' a tune 'at run
In their minds familiously!
They'd review up, kind o', then,
Like they argied: 'Well, it's be'n
The most longest summer we
Ever saw er want to see!
Must be right, thought, er old 'Bee'
'U'd notify us!' they says-ee;
And they'd sort o' square their chin
And git down to work ag'in --
Moanin' round their honey-makin',
Kind o' like their head was achin'.
Tetchin' fer to see how they
Trusted Fessler thataway --
Him a-lazin' round, and smirkin'
To hisse'f to see 'em workin'!

"But old 'Bee,'" says Ike, says-he, --
"Now where is he? Where's he gone?
Where's the head he helt so free?
Where's his pride and vanity?
What's his hopes a-restin' on? --
Never knowed a man," says Ike,
"Take advantage of a bee,
'At affliction didn't strike
Round in that vicinity!
Sinners allus suffers some,
And old Fessler's reck'nin' come!
That-air man to-day is jes'
Like the grass 'at Scriptur' says
Cometh up, and then turns in
And jes' gits cut down ag'in!
Old 'Bee' Fessler," Ike says-he,
"Says, last fall, says he to me --
'Ike,' says he, 'them bees has jes'
Ciphered out my or'n'riness!
Nary bee in ary swarm
On the whole endurin' farm
Won't have nothin' more to do
With a man as mean as I've
Be'n to them, last year er two!
Nary bee in ary hive
But'll turn his face away,
Like they ort, whenever they
Hear my footprints drawin' nigh!'

And old 'Bee,' he'd sort o' shy
Round oneasy in his cheer,
Wipe his eyes, and yit the sap,
Spite o' all, 'u'd haf' to drap,
As he wound up: 'Wouldn't keer
Quite so much ef they'd jes' light
In and settle things up right,
Like they ort; but -- blame the thing! --
'Pears-like they won't even sting!
Pepper me, the way I felt,
And I'd thank 'em, ev'ry welt!"
And as miz'able and mean
As 'Bee' looked, ef you'd 'a' seen
Them-air hungry eyes," says Ike,
"You'd fergive him, more'n like.

"Wisht you had 'a' knowed old 'Bee'
'Fore he went to Floridy!"





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