Siafu Poem by Neil Stewart McLeod

Siafu, Siafu, they travel in lines,
Sometimes in tens and sometimes in nines,
Sometimes the ranks are ten yards wide
With big soldier ants that keep guard at the side.

Siafu, Siafu, I'll tell you no lie,
You had better move quickly when they come by.
For if they catch you and if you should fall,
There won't be much left of you at all.

Siafu, Siafu, the cleaning brigade,
In Africa we all know why they were made.
They march in their rows and where ever they've been
Not a living thing's left, the whole place is clean.

Siafu, Siafu, the farmer's prayer,
They scour through the fields and leave nothing there-
Not a mouse, not a mite, not a snake nor a snail,
Only the crop's left when they end their trail.

Siafu, Siafu, you'll be on the run
Ants in your pants was never such fun.
They climb up to places that you never mention,
Then all bite together as if by intention.

Siafu, Siafu, they make a cow shudder,
They crawl up and bite them from eyeball to udder.
They stagger and fall it's a pitiful scene,
In a day and a half their bones are picked clean.

Siafu, Siafu, in rain or in drought,
When they move in, why, you move out!
There really is nothing else that you can do,
They invade but are gone in a day or two.