I sleep in a room at the top of the stairs

With a flea and a fly and a soft scratching mouse

And a spider that hangs by a thread from the ceiling

Who gives me each day such a curious feeling

When I watch him at work on the beautiful weave

Of his web that’s so fine I can hardly believe

It won’t all end up in such terrible tangles

For he sways as he weaves and spins as he dangles

I cannot get up to that spider I know

And I hope he wont get down to me here below

And yet when I wake in the chill morning air

I’d miss him if he were not swinging there

For I have in my room such good company

There’s him and the mouse and the fly and the flea


(Written by Leonard Clark)


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