wilbur was a worthy wasp, felt his life was pathetic
was envious of the bees, and their ingrained work ethic
the bees were apollen bores, the poor wasp they disowned
always boasting about their honey, and on and on they'd drone
wilbur hatched a business plan, to make honey obsolete
get humankind to love the wasp, and disregard the bee
he thought honey looks like hard work, thats not in our remit
could enslave flys to be our worker guys, but man they smell of shit
for motivation sure aint the best in the wasp universe
its mostly mindless violence, and making crowds disperse
the vanity of women, was wilburs holy grail
bee stung lips were all the rage, wasp ones could'nt fail
he opened up in harley street, they queued around the block
half wits like posh spice, to the place did flock
the bees were all a jealous, when they saw the tills a ringing
that made wilbur most content, though his hole was sore from stinging
