Webs spun, a triangle,
spiders dance, dangle
do a waltz, tango
with their eight legs spewed about.
They know how to twist and shout.
Tight, eight-legged blue jeans
make them want to let it out!

Spiders of all hues
seem to groove on blues.
In little blue shoes
they create moves … intricate,
strong, lacy and delicate.
They’ve got their own Jimmy Deans!
He’s cool … but no duplicate.

Their appetite’s huge;
friendship is a ruse.
Your demise is news
but they’ll cry no tears … ever;
having fun’s their endeavor.
To save yourself eat some beans!
Gassing them will be clever!

Spiders, dizzy, fall—
can’t touch you at all.
Squish them on floors, haul
their eight legged corpses out.
You’ve won this dance—please don’t pout.
Repo eight-legged blue jeans;
market them to ants—fat, stout!

Don’t forget: let gasses out!