Where the heck did this come from? (Where in my mind, I mean)

Once upon a squirly tree,
roamed a busy little bee.
He swarmed and buzzed and flew,
never straight, and never true.
Twirled the busy, tizzy bee,
all about, so high and free.
But upon that day,
the sky turned gray,
fell from the sky a great wet sea,
and drenched that wee little bee.
He did not stop, only dove and twirled,
and striving so, bobbed and whirled.
And so flying did that bee,
barely escape, though did he so happily.