It is very apt, particularly if one is part of this wacky group as she does "mother & manage" the group rather well and of course we're happy to follow along. So to that end here's a snippet of our Queen Bee:
‘Queen Bee’ be her name.
When weekends come, her routes be done,
Across the mountains, around the dam and second to none.
Her hungry boys she ne’r forgets,
With halfway stops of pancakes, chips and maybe coke he gets.
When your saddle goes, our mother she knows,
“Sorry for you, still 20 to go on the saddles nose”.
As the ground you hit, a jumble of grass and tit,
She’ll sigh and say: “Now look what you've done you limp wristed twit”.
On navigation she is queen of her domain,
with "Go left, the other left, no brain”.
When homeward bound you go, life’s lessons she’ll continue to teach,
Along the railway track with broken saddle, just to make you screech.
And so our mother goes, with us in tow,
through the veggie farm, across the mountains and over the hedgerow.
Always homeward bound, to apple pie, tea & toys,
Ah Queen Bee, she's a mother to us boys...