Lyrics

Beneath old planks of cedarwood
The ants on angled legs all stood
To vent their spleens (Tho’ they have none)
To make a plan, to have some fun

For work, work, work was all they'd known
From rooster crow to nesting sun
In joyless toil they climbed the hill
Afraid to look - afraid to spill

Their armloads full of prey and food
No greetings (ants are very rude!)
And soldier-like upon the trail
The ants trudged on from tip to tail

Too long content in settled ways
Too long in fear of poison sprays
They seized the moment and the day
Laid down their fears and went to play