A wisp of straw acrost his way
Once kept him busy fer an hour,
An’ ant-miles long he walked that day
To git around a bloomin’ flower.
The sand he carried grain by grain—
Great boulders thet he had to lift—
An’, with his engineerin’ brain,
He sunk his shaft an’ run his drift.
An’ then at night a Bigger Thing,
To which the Little Thing must kneel,