Ants in your pants
Some would say,
If they had a chance
For sure they'd stay,
Any place is their foray
It's really outside
I wish they'd stay.

"Mining" the clay
In cracked concrete
Out front
Wond'ring one day
If we'll be lost
With a grunt.

Perhaps in a "big wet"
We'll slide down
The street
As our slab get's pushed out
By them little dark feet!

Kitchen sink, Bathroom
And vanity too,
There's millions and millions
We'll send them to you.