  The Poet offereth to deliver a Fly from the Spider’s web. “Really, Fly, you ought to know Better, surely, than to go Into Mr. Spider’s net. Luckily I’m here to set You free”; but ere I could have stirred, Mr. Spider’s voice I heard Crying in an angry tone: “Better let my lunch alone! Even Spiders’ rights must be respected. “One would think, for all you care, Spiders could subsist on air. Listen to this tale and see If you don’t agree with me!” * * * I sat down without a word, Following is the tale I heard: THE TALE.The Spider spinneth a yarn to instruct the Poet and divert him that he may forget about the Fly. A Prince who sought His lost Bride, caught In the toils of a witch,—woe betide her!— When riding one night Through a forest, caught sight Of a Spi in the web of a Flyder. (As perhaps you surmise, I have tried to disguise, The names, with the best of intention: For I make it my plan, Whenever I can, To avoid any personal mention.) Said the Prince to the Spi, “Supposing that I Should deliver you out of this hatefulness, Will you pay me in kind, And help me to find My Bride?—Can I count on your gratefulness?” Said the Spi, “Without doubt, If you will let me out From the web of the terrible Flyder, By all means—oh, yes! You shall find your Princess, For I will myself be your guider!” The Flyder does not see it in the same light as the Prince. One jerk! He was free, And his buzzing and glee Drove the Prince to the verge of distraction. The Flyder, meanwhile, Wore a cynical smile, And a look of—well—not satisfaction. The Prince paid no heed, But mounted his steed, And started the Princess to find. The Spi led the way, But little dreamed they That the Flyder had mounted behind! He found her, it’s true, And the wicked witch, too, Who fled when he up and defied her; But while being wed, Hanging over her head, The Princess caught sight of the Flyder! Showing the terrible consequences of meddling with the domestic affairs of a Flyder. At the terrible sight, Her reason took flight, Till she was completely bereft of it, When she drained a tureen Full of cold Paris green, And the Prince swallowed all that was left of it! Setting forth how a Poet and a Fly were both taken in by a Spider’s yarn, and how that a diverting tale may speed a good dinner. Listening to the Spider, I Quite forgot poor Mr. Fly And his pitiable plight Till the tale was finished quite, Then, alas! too late I knew, Mr. Fly was finished, too. |
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