Calling the Bees

Little brownies, little brownies, your master is dead
So fly down for coffee, and cake, and bread
Little brownies, little brownies, your mistress has gone
As the hunted doe leaves her poor yearling fawns

Little brownies, little brownies, their children died too
In the slavering blaze that shall soon consume you
Little brownies, little brownies, the sun has sunk low
The light on the ridge is the fire’s baleful glow

Little brownies, little brownies, see the blood on his hands
Your master has proven himself quite the man
Little brownies, little brownies, do you spy their repose?
In slumber they neglect the buttercup and rose

Little brownies, little brownies, make haste your escape
The flames clamber nearer and the hour grows late
Little brownies, little brownies, follow them to the heavens
All hardships behind you, eternity beckons