She ain’t any old ant. This ant is my aunt. She’s from Antarctica – so she’s cold – but she ain ‘t antisocial. She’s old, but she ain’t an antique.
When my aunt gets antsy, her antennae become like antlers, she anticipates questions, and (as she says with a lisp), she becomes “the ant with all the anthers”.
She ain’t any old ant. This ant is my aunt. She’s from Antarctica – so she’s cold – but she ain ‘t antisocial. She’s old, but she ain’t an antique.
When my aunt gets antsy, her antennae become like antlers, she anticipates questions, and (as she says with a lisp), she becomes “the ant with all the anthers”.