It's there again, that spider on the ceiling in the hall.

The last time that I saw it, it was climbing up the wall.

I thought if I ignored it, it would simply go away,

Alas, my hopes are shattered, I think it's here to stay.

I think I'll get my feather duster, knock it to the floor,

But it might get in the kitchen, having run under the door.

Or it might fall on my head, that would surely drive me mad.

Oh, for a Knight in Shining Armour, a real Sir Galahad.

Alas, there's only me around, so what am I to do?

I can't stay here all night, and it's no use saying "boo".

I decide to take a chance, and run upstairs to bed,

I'm tired of looking at the thing and need to rest my head.

And perhaps by morning, with luck, it will have gone away,

That's what I hope sincerely as down my head I lay.

But in my dreams, all I see are spiders everywhere,

Yet I am not afraid of them, for them I really care.

But in the cold light of day, down the stairs I creep,

If the damn thing's still there, I swear I'll really weep.

It's gone, I'm worried, for I don't know where.

I'm going out today, I may forget it was ever there. Mrs M Briscoe

Copthorne Drive, Breightmet, Bolton

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.