Red ants

Tiny soldiers, marching bold,

A crimson army, fierce and bold.

With mandibles strong, they bite and sting,

A tiny menace, a fearsome thing.

They swarm and crawl, a crimson tide,

A hungry horde, that will not subside.

They build their nests, a mound of earth,

A hidden kingdom, of little worth.

They raid the pantry, a hungry band,

A sweet temptation, at hand.

They march in columns, a fearsome sight,

A tiny army, a mighty might.

So let us watch, with wary eye,

The crimson creepers, marching by.

A tiny menace, a fearsome thing,

A crimson army, on the wing.