While I did live, I food did give, which many one did daily eat. Now being dead, you see they tread me under feet about the street.
It's small but larger than a bee, And agile as a flea. It humms but does not buzz, And it's not covered with fuzz. It is a small collector, Of juicy flower nectar.
What is sacred, holy, female, and noisy?
I'm carried by mad animals. What am I?
Oh how I love my dancing feet! They stay together - oh so neat. And when I want to walk a line, They all stay together and do double time. I count them up, ten times or more, And race on-off, across the floor.
I roam through the lands hoping to rescue my love. I search high and low and will stomp on you if you get in my way!