Behind the bush is an old rotting stump
I hide in between there its kind of dump
I hide nice and quiet while you count out loud
I am ever so gleeful I may even be proud
For I have found this wonderful spot of mine
I watch some ants march in a long line
They cross over my shoe and one stops to stare
Its beady eyes seem to glare
It creeps up my pants leg
And I silently beg
For it to crawl out and leave
You see ants are my only pet peeve
So I wiggle my leg and try not to yell
And suddenly I smell
Something stinky and rotten
That my new yellow shirt
Made out of genuine cotton
Has dog poop and ants crawling all over it
So I start to run tripping in a large pit
I get up and run straight into you
And you yell 'BOO'
With a large grin you say
'Now it's your turn to count
For the rest of the day'