Just For You Poetry

My neighbour is a spider
Her name is Edith Jones
I've always stood beside her
No matter how she moans

I'd knitted little sockies
To keep her leggies warm
But she'd said she wore frockies
And tights would be the norm

And so, four pairs I knitted
Of tiny little tights
And Edith Jones was kitted
For ice cold winter nights

Alas, ill fortune claimed her
She had a fatal blip
A massive fall had maimed her
When Edith lost her grip

It seems her tights prevented
Her clinging to the web
And when her grip relented
She fell and split her head

The judge was very willing
As Woodlouse to the crown
To find 'Unlawful killing'
And through a worried frown

He made a brief citation
"When Edith plunged from heights
By just interpretation
It must have been the tights"

And so I'm now in jail
And never see my wife
With time to write this tale
'A Beetle serving life'

Aww.. how sweet you are to think of knitting tights to keep poor Edith warm on cold winter nights..

I will stand up in court as a widow spider witness for you Steven if you promise to make me some anti-slip tights

Hmmmm....a nasty case of arachnicide methinks. But at least it wasn't insecticide. lol Good one, mate.