Whack an ant
O, brother Charlie
are you a sycophant to sense?
In pious softness spoke
the Jesus Army lad.
Why could I am be sick of ants?
That much a strange-some question you are ask.
St Elmo’s Fire plastered across
his Jesus Army face.
& Charlie kept to champing toast
n’ scrambled eggs.
Ants are get in my kitchen once
& got into I’s box of Weetabix
so did my angry-was n’ basht ‘em
with the Radio Times.
Charlie flew into demonstrating his
in spasms like a wind up toy
his club arm, pre-historic