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Related: Editorials & Other Articles, Issue Forums, Alliance Forums, Region ForumsThat fly last night - I laughed so much my sides ached because of The Spider and the Fly
I posted this poem on a thread last week
Americans will not walk into the ReTHUG parlour and survive - the fly escaped last night - what a metaphor!
The Spider and the Fly
by Mary Howitt
Will you walk into my parlour? said the Spider to the Fly,
Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I have many curious things to shew when you are there.
Oh no, no, said the little Fly, to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can neer come down again.
Im sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed? said the Spider to the Fly.
There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest awhile, Ill snugly tuck you in!
Oh no, no, said the little Fly, for Ive often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!
Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, Dear friend what can I do,
To prove the warm affection Ive always felt for you?
I have within my pantry, good store of all thats nice;
Im sure youre very welcomewill you please to take a slice?
Oh no, no, said the little Fly, kind sir, that cannot be,
Ive heard whats in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!
Sweet creature! said the Spider, youre witty and youre wise,
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
Ive a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,
If youll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself.
I thank you, gentle sir, she said, for what youre pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning now, Ill call another day.
The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purpletheres a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!
Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue
Thinking only of her crested headpoor foolish thing! At last,
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlourbut she neer came out again!
And now dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you neer give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.
https://www.democraticunderground.com/100214244913#post2
ResistantAmerican17
(3,840 posts)malaise
(269,237 posts)this is too much shit for me and the American people. Flies love rotting things.