One, two, three,

Four, and 

Five, the fifth son

Appears to be covered in

Hives

 

He flies with

The bees, and

The sky, his home

They try to swat him

Like a fly

 

But his wings

Are strong, and

He escapes the swatter

Who does him wrong

 

But the swatter

Persists, and

Still it tries to kill him,

But he resists

 

So the swatter

Gives in, and

To the Sun he goes

To live in. 

 

One, two, three,

Four, and

Five, the fifth son

Is now first, living peacefully

In his beehive.