An Anti-pathetic Affair

Deep in the wood, down an over-grown track

Stands an ant-hill that you would not find on the map,

The entrance to which is a gate made of sticks,

Proudly bearing the name of ‘Ant-Hill 1-2-6’

Not too far from this site, if you’d care to look,

You would find that the overgrown track meets a brook,

There too stands an ant-hill, and there on the gate

A proudly hung sign says ‘Ant-Hill 1-2-8’

Now the inhabit-ants of these two great estates

Had been neighbours since ant-year two hundred and eight,

When the ancestor-ants had said ‘Love one-another,

No matter what ant-hill, every ant is your brother’

But ants have short memories

And tend to forget,

And down through the centuries

Their ways became set,

Long gone are the days when all ants were brothers,

Now an ant must choose: one ant-hill or another.

So the ants of Ant-Hill 1-2-6 came to hate

The inhabit-ants of Ant-Hill 1-2-8,

They put walls round their ant-hill

And guards on the gate,

‘Let’s see what the old 1-2-8ers have got!’

Thought Serge-ant as he bolted the gate tightly shut.

Well the hill 1-2-8’ers looked on with concern

Thinking ‘those 1-2-6’ers, they’ll never learn,

What sort of an ant builds a wall round their hill?

You can’t trust ants like that, I know we never will!’

Without further ado they allowed no respite

And built walls and put guards on their gate overnight.

Such rapid construction gave their neighbours a fright,

‘Who are they to build walls and post guards overnight?’’

Thought the hill 1-2-6’ers ’if they want a fight,

We’ll show them exactly what we’ve got in store

For those hill 1-2-8’ers, we’ll give ‘em what for!’

So now Ant-Hills 1-2-6 and 1-2-8

Both had walls to protect them and guards on the gate,

But these measures that should have allayed all their fears

Led to more worried ants than there had been in years,

Now each thought the others were bad and corrupt,

And they wondered what else they’d begun to construct,

Walls, they are one thing – an act of defence,

But behind walls like that you could plan an attack,

It makes sense to be ready to give ‘em some back.

So it was in this climate of hate and suspicion

That both ant-hills arrived at the self-same decision:

To prepare for attack with the utmost precision.

So the ants set to work right away on their plan,

Every ant was instructed to do what they can,

Builders built turrets, a drawbridge, a moat,

Tailors made uniforms: boots hats and coats,

Soldiers were trained to prepare for a fight

In the light of the day or the dead of the night,

Others built armour that soldiers could wear

And machines to hurl boulders high into the air,

Swords, spears and arrows were made by the score

To be mobilized in the event of a war,

Never before had any ant seen

The like of such monstrous an ant-war-machine…….

 

While both of our ant-hills felt quite justified

In the actions they’d taken, they just could not hide

The fact that they’d made preparations for war,

Looking out at their neighbours just think what they saw:

A fortified ant-hill with drawbridge and moat,

And guards on the gate with swords under their coats,

Boulders and soldiers and arrows and spears,

And war-like contraptions that played on their fears,

And as we all know fear can turn into hate

When instead of befriending we alienate,

And hate, like a blind-fold, can cover our eyes

So we see what we want to see,

Hear what we want to hear,

Talk of conspiracy,

Rumours and lies……..

Well the rumours spread fast at Ant-Hill 1-2-6,

Rumours of Hill 1-2-8’s dirty tricks,

Some said that they were the worst kind of ants,

Who’d frighten small children right out of their pants,

Others had heard that they’d lie and they’d cheat,

If your laces weren’t tied they’d steal shoes from your feet,

Some even told of how spies had been found

With their ears to the walls and the doors and the ground,

Now ants like that might in these darkest of times,

Resort to the meanest and darkest of crimes,

With schemers and plotters and those of their creed

Who knows where their plotting and scheming might lead,

They might plan an invasion and act right away,

Ants like that do not wait they act now, seize the say,

Or worse they might wait while disarming smiles

Belie the design of a weapon so vile

That its very existence be cause for denial.

Of course there were no secret weapons designed,

They were rumours, just that, nothing more.

No plans of invasion or other such schemes

Had been hatched at the ant-hill next door,

But when rumours persist, fiction soon becomes fact

In the minds of young ants, and can lead them to act,

They called for a public debate in the square,

And the very next day every ant gathered there…….

‘My good friends’ Prude-ant cried, ‘we have gathered today

To consider what action to take,

And whatever the outcome, I’m sure you’ll agree

It’s a vital decision to make,

So think hard before speaking, consider your words

As the ancestor-ants were fabled to do,

And remember the teachings of B. Neville-ant:

Treat all ants as you’d have them treat you’

Then Prude-ant explained that they’d all have their say

And they’d settle the matter on that very day,

A silence descended until from the crowd

A single ant’s voice rang out loud:

‘It is all very well’, Sride-ant cried with great force,

‘For the ancestor-ants to be praised,

For treating each other with love and respect

In those untroubled halcyon days,

But a plan to invade might be hatched as we speak,

My good friends times like these are not times for the meek

Or the weak or faint-hearted, we must make a stand,

Fellow ants, if you’re with me clench your fists, raise your hands!’

And as Stride-ant’s words rang from the walls of the square,

They ignited the passions of every ant there,

As a murmur that built to a deafening roar

Fed the fire that burst from the floor.

‘They must pay for their sin!’

Ard-ant cried through the din,

And these words that were fuelled by hate,

Gave the passions a voice

And determined the choice

Of reaction to hill 1-2-8.

‘Kill them all! Kill them all!’

Viol-ant led the call,

‘We must crush them before it’s too late!’

‘They must die!’ echoed Adam-ant, not to be moved,

‘To an ant we will meet out their fate!’

And that, my good friends, was the last word that anyone

Heard on that historic day,

The voices of Prude-ant and Toller-ant drowned

To Senty-ant’s rising dismay,

And Leeny-ant’s fears eluded deaf ears

As Supplic-ant started to pray.

Then out of this turbid, turpituous horde

The ants-of-the-moment emerged,

O’Beedy-ant followed where Vally-ant led,

The ants moved as one and then surged

Out of the gate towards Hill 1-2-8,

As the square tensed, relaxed, and was purged.

Dear reader, let’s pause to reflect for a while,

This is half of a story, no more,

For another debate, on that very day,

Had been held at the ant-hill next door,

Where words spoken in anger and seasoned with hate

Had created a passion for war.

Thus it came to pass that both hills to the last,

Reacted exactly the same:

Left behind hills of sand, rushed across no-ants-land,

To begin the last moves of the game,

As ants such as Gall-ant and Vally-ant answered

The call of a distant refrain,

That promised them glory and fame.

What then came to pass has been labelled as farce

By the writers of ant-history,

And though some ants have claimed

That it can be explained

It remains a great ant-mystery:

How the fog that descended enveloped the land

In a soup through which no ant could see……

 

And so Ant-Hills 1-2-6 and 1-2-8

Picked their way through the thickening murk,

Though never an eye saw their neighbours pass by

They continued unnoticed to lurk

Towards the front gates of their neighbours estates

Where they set right away to their work:

At first they surrounded the walls of the hills

And built fires to burn through the gloom,

Then they erected machines they expected

To lead to their enemies’ doom.

There were some that hurled boulders and others

Designed to break through the most sturdy of gates

And then there were those that would stamp on ants’ toes

With precision-made toe-crushing weights!

Boulders and soldiers and arrows and spears

Were deployed to protect through the night,

While ascend-ant prepared (rest assured he was scared)

To keep watch from a high-flying kite

 

Dear reader, let’s look at our ants one last time

For a farce of the highest degree

Will soon be revealed, to be forever sealed

In the annals of ant history:

Two peace-loving ant-hills incited by rumour

To make preparations for war,

In a moment of madness vacated their houses,

Laid siege to the ant-hill next door,

But as we’ve asserted both hills were deserted,

Their ramparts were bare and forlorn,

And this fact was revealed as the fog that concealed

Was removed by the cold light of dawn,

By the sobering light of the dawn.

 

And so with the dawning of the next morning

Both ant-hills could see their mistake:

They could neither attack, nor turn and go back

To the homes they’d seen fit to forsake

Their ant-ics of late had achieved stalemate,

Only one course of action remained:

With due trepidation an ant-delegation

Was formed amongst those who maintained

That the conflict must now be contained.....

 

So it was that the wisest of ants in the land

Came to meet on that historic day,

Toller-ant, Prude-ant, Senty-ant, Coje-ant

And Provid-ant all had their say,

They talked ‘till the light faded into the night,

‘Till the crimson-clad clouds with a sigh,

Turned their backs on the world and contentedly curled

As they drifted to sleep in the sky,

They talked until campfires burned on both sides,

And banished the shadows to bed,

They talked until difference dissolved into dreams

That inhabit the land of the dead,

And when they returned with all that they’d learned

They proclaimed an unheard-of decree:

That these ants we call ‘Others’ are truly our brothers,

No different from you or from me.

Two sides came together right there on the heather

That used to be called no-ant’s land,

And the air rang with cheers as, embracing their peers,

They extended a brotherly hand

They danced through the night ‘till the warm firelight

Gave way to the light of the dawn,

They sang and they danced ‘till their friendship advanced

And a new age of ants had been born

And when the dancing was over,

Allowing no time for respite,

They sat down to work on a plan to ensure

They would never again have to fight….. 

 

Deep in the wood, down an overgrown track

Not to far from a bubbling brook,

Stands an ant-hill that you might just find on the map

If you are most careful to look,

Where ants live as brothers and sisters together -

An anti-diluvian heaven -

And a proudly-hung sign on a gate made of sticks 

Says quite simply: ‘Ant-Hill 1-2-7’