The bumble bee flies 'round his head
He stands amidst the flames.
His name is Mr. Lemonhead
And so his nose proclaims!

Gaunt and meek his face is sleek
The sweat is on his brow.
He wonders 'round aimlessly
And always wears a frown...

The flames are high and hot and red
He knows not where to go.
How poor old Mr. Lemonhead
Got here he does not know...

If only he could recall how
He might just understand
That where he stands right now
Is home to all the damned.

His schnoz is big and oh so round
It stands out from his face.
It is far unlike the usual mound
Among the human race.

Mr. Lemonhead has realised
His fate is quite exact.
For he now knows that he is dead
This is his final act.

Panic strikes him in the chest
He runs into the flames
The bumble bee is quite the pest
And digs into his brains.

Oh, poor old Mr. Lemonhead
Eternally insane
The bumble bee is in his crown
Laughing at his name...

VIEW THE PAINTING!