The Bees Knees (take that iambic pentameter)

This poem is dedicated to the many hard-working apiary geniuses of our time.

Tools extracting honey casks
honeybees in sun may bask
but instead they choose
to sting and sting til I bruise

Mask over bandanna, hair in face
wait I need my veil to lace!
Honey tool looks like crow-bar
Try not flying gold to mar

Upside down liquid, flowing like falls
humming and droning bees in hive calls
Smoker smoker, please protect
Bees from flying 'round my neck

In my pant-leg whilst I worked
I yelled and slapped it and said "What a jerk."
Auntie whom I was helping
ignored my constant cries & yelping.