The Mushroom Club Masthead
Poems

 

RED ANTS
© 2012 Greg Tommasi

A large green bush, there is no fuss,
It's standing right in front of us.
Here's something new, everyone has said,
And stupid me - - don't use my head.

On every branch Red Ants run wild,
I stare in wonder, like a child.
Their nests are baskets, made of leaves,
On second thoughts, the whole tree seethes.

I still don't know why I did that,
Curiosity, it was, that killed the cat.
But bright red ants are a sight to see,
So I touched a branch, and they're on me.

From the tip of my boots, to the top of my hair,
The bloody things are everywhere.
My pack comes off and my clothes go flying,
They're crawling all over, I think I'm dying.

I jump and scratch with all my might,
Yet all they do is bite and bite.
My mates all round just laugh like mad,
The bastards know that I've been had.

But I've learnt my lesson and learnt it well,
Red Ants in trees can go to hell.



Terry Tommasi
Terry Tommasi
9 Platoon, C company 1966-67



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