The working ants,
Oh! the teeny weeny busy ants.
I see them work all the day,
And never see them being tired.
They steal food from Granma's kitchen,
And fill their tiny cutie tummies.
But if we don't let them go ,
They'll let their 'stingie things',
Hurt our feet and off they go,
Making their way home happily.
(I wrote this poem this March when I was at Appooppan and Ammoomma's house)
Oh! the teeny weeny busy ants.
I see them work all the day,
And never see them being tired.
They steal food from Granma's kitchen,
And fill their tiny cutie tummies.
But if we don't let them go ,
They'll let their 'stingie things',
Hurt our feet and off they go,
Making their way home happily.
(I wrote this poem this March when I was at Appooppan and Ammoomma's house)
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