Now, as I’ve heard, this little fly was young, but wary, too,
And so he thought, I’ll mind my eye—the thing may be a do!
So “No, no!” said that little fly; “kind Sir, that cannot be,
I’ve heard what’s in your parlour, and I do not wish to see.”
That Spider he was portly, and that Spider he was bland,
And he played the part of siren for an even Older Hand.
Says he, “Oh, Fly, you must be tired of being on the shelf,
Why don’t you just step in awhile, if but to rest yourself?”
“Our parlour’s snugly furnished, for expense we never spare,
We’ve such a nice Round Table; you shall have an easy chair.