Will you walk in, pretty fly?”
“Will you grant me one sweet kiss, then!” says the spider to the fly;
“To taste your charming lips, I’ve a cu-ri-os-i-ty!”
Said the fly, “If once our lips did meet, a wager I would lay,
Of ten to one, you would not after let them come away.”
“Will you walk in, pretty fly?”
“If you won’t kiss, will you shake hands?” says the spider to the fly,
“Before you leave me to myself, with sorrow sad to sigh.”
Says the fly—“there’s nothing handsome unto you belongs;
I declare you should not touch me even with a pair of tongs.”