ants

she sure is gettin…

This pint size brat, will stop to chat, we often see her coming
Right there she’ll sit, the little shit, then starts that bloody drumming
On any day, she heads our way, we seem to take her fancy
That little witch is in our ditch, she’s always getting antsy

With spade in hand, she takes command, to show us how she’s feeling
She makes us mad, she’s bad, bad, bad, she’s ruining our ceiling!
This naughty bird and knee high turd’s one mighty smack despatcher
We’d sting her toes, march up her nose, if only we could catch her…

A fiery dance through legs of pants, she’d feel our wrath and fully
But she’s too quick with slapping stick, deft-handed little bully!
With spade she’ll smash, scoop up and stash each tiny battered body
Our Queen is pissed and did insist defence was rather shoddy

Express attack, we can’t fight back, we’ve almost had a gut full
She’ll bash and splat, then that is that, we’re slaughtered by the cupful
Our nest is west, there’s nothing left, all due to mini menace
But violent craze, just passing phase, thank Christ she took up tennis!

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Copyright P J Ross
16112015

Image courtesy of P J Ross