That aracnid. its just plain brown
But luck will fall where it drops down
I am so deprived of Wonga
Like dry ice it dissapeared and its a goner
Alight on me from any dark corner
My empty pockets so to honour
Left your web to stretch your legs
Let me be your landing pad
My luck to spin in silken threads
Its nurture was in vaults of banks
The interest to donate, one thinks !
So to distribute at its whims
A small windfall from Brinks-Mat
Perched on spindles dressed with hair
Its speed so fast, are you prepared ?
Screams my girlfriend "Im so scared"
Get that spider out of here