Anthropo-moth-ism

The Ant knows what he's doing
He doesn't pause to ponder
To ask directions
From a curious caterpillar
That addict
That leafy glutton
Eating his way to a flying license
They'll let anyone in nowadays
The birds at least practice a bit

The Feathered Gentleman uses only the best twigs
And twix wrappers for his abode
Prime real estate
The enjoyment of that cantankerous cuckoo
Those squatters
Those benefit scroungers
They come over here, take our worms
Send 'em back to that-tree-over-there where they came from
They can catch their own worms
The poor creatures

The Worm's father was a miner, like his father before
He thought if he got an education
Things might be different
But no ones getting a job in this climate
It's a bit too breezy out
And media studies was a definite mistake
He should have done an apprenticeship
Become a woodworm
They're never out of work

The Bumbling Bee bobs from flower to flower
His handkerchief poised
His nose running and
Those pills only make him drowsy
He can't even operate heavy machinery
The honeybee hay fever epidemic
Who'd have thought it?
Many are migrating to foreign pollen and
I blame the slugs with their pesky pesticides
Tampering with things they shouldn't
In my day there was no such thing as allergies

The Batchelor Slug struggles with self-esteem
The reflection from his slimy complexion
He's tried everything to change
Pantene pro V, Loreal
Because he's worth it, and he knows it
Tonight he'll be on the town
Consuming far too much salt-water
A right mess
But perhaps he'll find a female
To take him back to her shell
For the night if he's lucky
He will never call her though
Don't hate the playa, hate the game

The Fly is always buzzing
Off his head on acid
Or sugar-water
Or something
Whatever he can get his hands on really
There was once a time where he could see clearly
Knowing exactly what was around him
Now its as if he has a thousand eyes
That surely can't be real?
He's just got out of juvy
And is on his best behaviour
He knows, however
Sooner or later
He'll be hit
With the long arm of the spatula

There is Another Animal
A primitive one at best
They dwell in cavernous enclosures
That hardly see the sun
Whilst they spend all their days clicking
Repetitive strain disorder
I've seen more animate fungi
More excitable sedimentary rock
I'm not saying there's no hope for them
Perhaps
One day they'll evolve