by ScottWNJ » June 21st, 2010, 12:06 am
Will you walk into my parlour?" said Black Widow to the Guy,
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I've many gloves and artifacts to show when you are there."
Oh no, no," said the smoking Guy, "to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."
"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, from throwing hard and high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?" said Black Widow to the Guy.
"I have Ruths and Gerhigs; Doaks and Grimes,
To miss a look at my collection sure would be a crime!
Oh no, no," said the little Guy, "for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"
Said the cunning Widow to the Guy, " Dear friend what can I trade,
To prove my feelings for you and the friendship we have made?
I have within my parlour, a good store of all that's nice;
Sisler, Jackson, Dillinger, and a very rare Sam Rice!"
"Oh no, no," said the hatted Guy, "kind Ma'am, that cannot be,
I've heard what's in your parlour, and I do not wish to see!"
"Sweet Man!" said the Widow, "you're witty and you're wise,
And your baseman's mitt upon your hand is of an awesome size!
A Spalding Joe DiMaggio sits on my parlour shelf,
If you'll step in one moment, dear, you may have it for yourself."
"I thank you, gentle woman," he said, "for all you've had to say,
And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."
The Widow turned around about, and went into her den,
For well she knew the silly Guy would soon come back again:
A Draper Maynard sewn-in web, as bait she now would try,
Who could resist a glove like this, for sure not this handsome guy.
Then she came out to her door again, and merrily did sing,
"Come back, come back, dear gentleman, you have to see this thing;
With leather soft and supple, this mitt is all but new;
And how impressive it would look, if it were worn by you!"
Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Guy,
Hearing her wily, flattering words, came quickly flitting by;
With bulging eyes he gazed upon, the D&M so fine,
Oh how his friends would envy him, was all twas on his mind.
He reached to take the minty glove-- poor foolish thing! At last,
Up jumped the cunning Widow, and fiercely held him fast.
She dragged him up her winding stair, into her dismal den,
Within her little parlour -- but he ne'er came out again!
And now dear glove collectors, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you never heed:
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of Black Widow and the Guy.
Adapted from The Spider and The Fly by Mary Howitt
Scott
Scott W NJ