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Ants Ants Ants
In every crevice where I look
Every cranny, every nook
Creeping, crawling in their hoards
It’s my world they head towards
Swarming over every leaf
Numbers that defy belief
Out of holes, from under rocks
Now they’re even in my socks
They’re up my legs, they’re here, they’re there
I think one’s bit my you-know-where
At my feet the ground’s alive
I start to think, “Will I survive?”
I have some powder that I rate
It has the strength to decimate
Just a puff in cracks and holes
And all those ants will lose their souls
Trouble is, those bites are itching
For my powder’s in my kitchen
In a cupboard ’neath the sink
“Useful: NOT!” I hear you think
I ran a bath to set me free
And drowned those ants that didn’t flee
I laughed out loud as gleefully
I pulled the plug out, “Tee hee hee!”
Sat down that night to watch TV
And found an ant sat on my knee
I told that ant I couldn’t see
What kind of use an ant could be
I guess you’ll think that it’s a joke
(And yes I’d had a Scotch and coke)
It didn’t squeak nor bark nor croak…
I swear to you that damned ant spoke!
“Sir,” it said, “we pollinate
plants that then regenerate.
We make ourselves an aphid farm
which helps to save your plants from harm.
And all those slugs that make you squirm,
That horrid curly wurly worm,
We’ll eat them if we find them dead…
And then we shall infest your bed.”
Four millimetres of annoyance
For the sake of doubt avoidance
I hate insect sycophants
I won’t pretend to love those ants
He bit my leg; I wished him dead
But what the hell just bit my head
Sometimes nature makes me sigh…
What’s the point of ants that fly?
Copyright ©
Terry Flood
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