“Apparently,” yelled Abigail, arms thrashing in the breeze,
“My bouncing red-haired ponytail attracts the stinging bees!”
They buzzed in circles ’round her head. One landed on her ear.
And from her fuming freckled-face spewed words I can’t print here!

“Leave me alone!” screeched Abigail, hands flailing in the air.
“Buzz someone else’s ponytail! Sting someone else’s hair!”
With gnashing teeth, and fists raised high, she chased those buzzing bees.
“I warned you! Now, I’ll squash you bugs! No one pesters me!”

With stick in hand, mad Abigail raced all around the town.
At first she chased them up the streets, and then she chased them down.
She sprinted to the village park, searched flower beds and trees,
But breathless little Abigail never caught those bees.

Exhausted, Abigail collapsed upon a swing to rest.
The bees flew overhead and buzzed, “Your red hair is the bezzzt.
We like to watch it bounzzze around. We love its fragrant zzzmell.”
And then they buzzed so fast away she missed her chance to yell.