Down in Lexington Kentucky
There is quite a clever man,
It's Billy Bob MacKenzie--
Brightest fellow in the land.

He built himself a backhoe
That he runs with just his arm,
He wears a special glove with wires--
It works just like a charm.

When his arm bends at the elbow
Then the small controls the big,
He moves his hand to scoop the dirt
And the backhoe starts to dig.

When he lifts his glove up skyward
Then the backhoe goes up, too.
He moves his arm from side to side--
The bucket follows through.

He moves his glove from left to right
To move the backhoe 'round.
And with the most precise control
Young Billy digs the ground.

His grandma comes to visit him,
So proud of his invention.
She smiles with glee and waves to him
To capture his attention.

Then Billy smiles and waves to her
As she stands beside the ditch,
The bucket waves with vigour
As he gives his hand a twitch.

One day a stranger talks to him,
To ask him for directions,
Distracted, Billy stops to think--
Forgetting his connections.

He pauses, then, to scratch his head
The bucket scrapes above,
And then it points on down the road
As Billy points his glove.

An unfortunate occurrence
Brings an end to this strange poem.
It's a sad day in Kentucky
'Cause poor Billy Bob is gone.

The way he died was sudden--
In an instant he was dead.
A bee came in and buzzed around . . .
Then landed on his head.

The moral of this story is
A lesson on respect--
Sometimes the little things in life
Can have a great effect.