“Ew! It’s sticky.”

Walking through Boston late one evening, two of my best friends Sarah and Carolyn began singing a song from their childhoods, doing the hand gestures and giggling.  They’re both from New Hampshire and knew the same version – brilliantly, it’s a version both funnier and more disgusting than the ones I found online.

Here it is, as well as I could remember to transcribe it when I got home.  Ladies, please feel free to correct me!:

I’m picking up a baby bumblebee
Won’t my Mommy be so proud of me?
I’m picking up a baby bumblebee
Ouch!  It stung me!
I’m smooshing up a baby bumblebee
Won’t my Mommy be so proud of me?
I’m smooshing up a baby bumblebee
Ew!  It’s sticky!
I’m licking up a baby bumblebee
Won’t my Mommy be so proud of me?
I’m licking up a baby bumblebee
Ugh.  My tummy!
I’m throwing up a baby bumblebee
Won’t my Mommy be so proud of me?
I’m throwing up a baby bumblebee!

“That’s the end!” they said.  “Now do you want to go see the ducks?”

“Yes!” I said.

So we did.

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