‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all though the hive
Not a creature was stirring, are they even alive?
Empty honeycomb makes the cluster despair,
They hope that Jingle Bee soon will be there;
The larva and pupa all snug in their cells,
Dreams of royal jelly and bee bread’s sweet smell.
Queen in her castle and nurse bees attending,
These are cold nights that seem never ending.
When up on the roof, there arose such a clatter,
Smoke at the door, can you see what’s the matter?
Bright light and cold breeze in our house does appear,
A white-suited monster is looking in here.
He is chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laugh when I see him, in spite of myself.
He speaks not a word; but goes straight to his labor,
Looking and checking, with his blasted smoke maker.
His actions are swift to avoid chilling trouble,
Sugar and pollen to the hive he does shuttle.
Honey in frames to the cluster he brings,
Fresh food for the bees to last until Spring
The roof is now back and the darkness restored,
But the hive knows Jingle Bee visits once more.
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”
Adapted from original poem by Clement Clarke Moore.
Thanks to a member of the Backwards Beekeepers who posted this on our list via Dr. Burkart.
Image ©Roxana Villa & Greg Spalenka