Member Poem

A Spiders’ Yarn

I'll tell you the story of a spider called Sandy,
Bullied from birth and brought up on Brandy,
As hard as he pushed and as hard as he strained,
The silk he produced, in his bottom remained.

Silkless, impotent, useless, bereft,
He gave them the finger, packed up and left,
Strife hit him fast, an unbearable weight,
With no silk there's no web and no dinner date.

Starving and weak, drastic action required,
He'd stalk other spiders in their webs until tired,
He'd pounce in the dark, in the dead of the night,
Usually gaining a most sought after bite.

A month of surviving, stealing from his own,
It wasn't as he'd hoped, lonely he had grown,
Now friendless, homeless and silkless as well,
He'd paved his own path of perpetual hell.

One day in his sorrow, a fly he did spy,
As Sandy approached her, she started to cry,
"Just eat me already, I'm too lonely to care",
His gaze soothed her pain and their friendship bloomed there.

He questioned her sadness and the fly her story told,
She made sleeping apparatus from her secret stash of gold,
But her back it was in tatters, she'd often bathe in milk,
Oh what she wouldn't do for a bed that's made of silk!

There was a 'blimey' and a 'goodness', blasphemy quite loud,
But the answer to their problems jumped out at them so proud,
Assuming the position - there was no time to waste,
With some tugging and some grunting, they accomplished it with haste.

They parted and the spider turned up at Mothers door,
He was weaving threads of gold and he had an endless store,
As he spoke of flies and beds of silk, the listeners eyes grew wider,
He'd later watch them popping out as he introduced ‘The Flyder’!