Ants

We dare not touch the sugar,
And we must not touch the pie,
We’re afraid to eat the syrup,
Can you guess the reason why?
The bread must be inspected,
And we overlook ’em then;
It just seems we’ve got to eat ’em.
Yes the ants are back again.
They are crawlin’ in the cellar,
Everywhere on ev’ry shelf;
They are trackin’ through the butter,
Every feller fer herself,
In the fruit upon the table,
In the stuff down on the floor;
Yes the busy ants are movin’,
Never saw the like before.
We have killed ’em by the thousands
Yet a million more came on,
Couldn’t tell fer all our trouble
That a single one was gone.
Scalded, peppered, mashed and burned ’em,
Yet they seem to have the call;
And I guess we’re bound to eat ’em,
Bound to eat ’em after all.