Here comes a marching horde
Of thousand millipedes
A million pairs of tiny legs
And heads like shiny beads.
A crawling mass of wiggly worms
A sight to stand and see
Rolling, scrambling, tumbling over
Just the way to be.
One brother falls behind
He needs to have a munch
The others want to cross the lawn
Before they stop for lunch
The hungry brother starts to run
His mouth is full of food
He has to catch up with them or
He shall be lost for good
A moving swarm of tiny heads
Like shiny rolling beads
Gliding on a million legs
A thousand millipedes.
There goes a marching horde
Of thousand millipedes
A million pairs of tiny legs
And heads like shiny little beads.