Myrmecology

Click my jaws a few times at the beast,
it doesn’t care, doesn’t care in the least,
throw my scents out through the air,
Wind carries it back to the lair,
calls the swarm, ten thousand strong,
marching out to a primal song.
Throw ourselves into the breach!
Many hands have boundless reach.
Raise my body, point and spray,
a formic wave can wash anything away –
no grubby bandit can kill us all,
the large should always fear the small.