When the Crickets Sing

Yeah…
Midnight biology, baby.

Under starlight and a crescent moon,
Orthoptera tuning forks hummin’ in June.
Male Acheta domesticus rubbin’ wing to wing,
Stridulation set to a natural swing.
It’s thermodynamics in a minor key,
Friction on the tegmina, pure entropy.
Tempo rises with the mercury high,
Dolbear’s Law tappin’ time in the sky.

Out in the grass, man, that rhythm’s divine,
Like a horn section holdin’ perfect time.
Each pulse a signal sayin’ “I’m alive”,
A mating call with a jazzman’s drive.

Oh, when the crickets sing outside at night,
That syncopated chirp feels cool, feels right.
Nature’s metronome, smooth and slow,
Like a muted trumpet stealing the show.
But when they cross that threshold, lose they groove,
That sweet jazz rhythm turns to noise in the room.
Yeah, the music changes once they’re inside,
That’s when you call Four Seasons, for a silent night.

They slip through gaps, foundation cracks,
Following heat like a bassline track.
Drawn to warmth, drawn to light,
H.V.A.C. hummin’ like a club at night.
Chewing cellulose, probing with care,
Their omnivorous habits not invited there.
Circadian rhythms outta sync with your bed,
Now that late-night solo’s in your wall instead.

What was cool in the meadow, great in the field,
A sonic landscape that the night revealed
Becomes insomnia with a hard encore,
When one lone tenor slips under the door.

Oh, when the crickets sing outside at night,
That syncopated chirp feels cool, feels right.
Nature’s metronome, smooth and slow,
Like a muted trumpet stealing the show.
But when they cross that threshold, lose they groove,
That sweet jazz rhythm turns to noise in the room.
Yeah, the music changes once they’re inside
That’s when you call Four Seasons, for a silent night.

Integrated control, that’s the name of the tune,
Exclusion, done right, no danger, no doom.
Seal the gaps, manage moisture and heat,
Targeted treatments make the science complete.
No guesswork solos, no feedback squeal,
Just trained pros who know the deal.

Crickets got a place in the grand design,
Decomposers keepin’ ecosystems in line.
Food web players, recyclers of decay,
But your living room ain’t where they’re meant to play.
Jazz belongs in clubs, not walls or vents,
And insects belong where the night air’s bent.

We respect the rhythm, we honor the sound,
We keep the crickets from comin’ ‘round

Yeah, when the crickets sing outside at night,
That natural jazz feels smooth, feels so right.
But when the rhythm just won’t let you sleep,
And that one-note riff just won’t retreat
Don’t fight the band, don’t lose control,
Four Seasons Pest Solutions steals the solo.
They drop the needle, fade it clean,
Let your house rest quiet… cool… and serene.

mmmm serene.

Don’t fight the band, don’t lose control,
Four Seasons Pest Solutions stealin’ the show.
They drop the needle, fade it clean,
Let your house rest quiet… cool… and serene.

mmmm serene.

Let your house rest quiet… cool… serene…

cool serene.