Killer wasps from the farmer’s barn

Killer wasps from the farmer’s barn

There was something wrong at the farmer’s barn,
the cows wouldn’t go inside,
the horses kicked at the wooden doors,
then turned and tried to hide.
The farmer said it was probably rats,
his wife said leave them be,
but something buzzed in the rafters,
and it didn’t sound friendly to me.

They’d built their nest by the old hayloft,
as big as the farmer’s head,
and every wasp that crawled from it,
looked angry enough to see red.
They marched along an old wooden beam,
like soldiers going to war,
then one came down and stared at the farmer,
as he stood beside the door.

He grabbed his broom and waved it about,
which wasn’t his cleverest plan,
the wasp went back and fetched all its mates,
and that’s when the farmer ran.
He flew through the yard with his trousers loose,
his cap fell into the muck,
he shouted, “Mavis open that door,”
but Mavis had locked the bugger up.

The chickens scattered across the yard,
the pig jumped into its trough,
the old farm dog went under the tractor,
and wasn’t coming out.
The farmer ran round the washing line,
with twenty wasps behind,
while Mavis watched through the kitchen glass,
and nearly wet herself laughing inside.

But these weren’t ordinary wasps,
they’d grown far bigger than most,
they’d eaten something behind that barn,
or perhaps they’d swallowed a ghost.
Their eyes looked black in the afternoon sun,
their wings made a terrible sound,
and every creature on that farm,
was either hiding or flat on the ground.

Then one huge wasp flew into the kitchen,
and landed beside the bread,
Mavis stopped laughing immediately,
and grabbed the pan by her head.
“Don’t you dare come near my jam,” she said,
as though the wasp understood,
it crawled towards the strawberry jar,
and Mavis knew this wasn’t good.

She opened the window and pointed outside,
“Go back to your rotten old nest,”
the wasp just sat on the butter dish,
as if having a little rest.
Then suddenly something strange happened,
it turned and flew away,
and every wasp that had chased the farmer,
followed it over the hay.

They disappeared behind the old barn,
and silence covered the farm,
the farmer crawled from beneath a cart,
still clutching his aching arm.
His cap was gone, his shirt was torn,
there was straw stuck in his hair,
and Mavis said, “You frightened them off then?”
He said, “Of course, I wasn’t scared.”

That evening nobody went near the barn,
not even the farmer’s cat,
the cows stayed out in the meadow,
and everyone was happy with that.
But sometime around the stroke of twelve,
came a buzzing under the moon,
the farmer pulled up his bedroom quilt,
and hoped they’d be leaving soon.

Next morning the nest had disappeared,
not a single wasp could be seen,
the barn was quiet, the cattle went in,
and everything looked clean.
The farmer smiled and puffed out his chest,
“I knew they’d eventually go,”
then Mavis looked towards the farmhouse roof,
and whispered, “Don’t look up, Joe.”

For hanging above their bedroom window,
bigger than yesterday’s by far,
was another nest full of angry wasps,
who’d followed them home from the barn.
The farmer packed a little suitcase,
Mavis grabbed the dog and the ham,
and nobody slept in that farmhouse again,
because the wasps had taken the farm.