Little Miss Muffet
Sat on her tuffet
Eating her curds and whey
There came a big spider
And sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.
This is probably the best known little poem about spiders. Miss Patience Mouffet was the daughter of the Reverend Thomas Mouffet (1552 - 1604) who thought spiders were beautiful and had medicinal properties.
If you wish to live and thrive,
Let the spider run alive.
Kill a spider and bad luck yours will be,
Until of flies you've swatted fifty-three.
"Will you walk into my parlour?" said the spider to the fly.
"'Tis the prettiest little parlous that ever you did spy.
"The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
"And I have many curious things to show you when you are there."
"Oh, no, no," said the little fly, "to ask me is in vain,
"For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."
I have fought a grizzly bear,
Tracked a cobra to its lair,
Killed a crocodile who dared to cross my path,
But the thing I really dread
When I've just got out of bed
It to find that there's a spider in the bath.
I've no fear of wasps or bees,
Mosquitoes only tease,
I rather like a cricket on the hearth;
But my blood runs cold to meet
In pyjamas and bare feet
With a great big hairy spider in the bath.
What a frightful looking beast -
Half and inch across at least -
It would frighten even Superman or Garth.
There's contempt it can't disguise
In the little beady eyes
Of the spider glowering in the bath.
Now it's time for me to shave
Though my nerves will not behave,
And there's bound to be a fearful aftermath;
So before I cut my throat
I shall leave this final note:
DRIVEN TO IT - BY THE SPIDER IN THE BATH!
Michael Flanders and Donald Swann
Spiders large, spiders small,
Spiders creeping up my wall.
Spiders with eight legs or more,
Slithering, sliding across my floor.
Spiders crawling on my head,
Spiders marching up my bed.
Spiders spinning a sticky web,
Swat, splat, them spiders is dead.