I was sweeping up the cobwebs in the shed,
When a spider came and reared his tiny head.
He gave a friendly wink,
and he made me stop and think,
When I listened to the tearful words he said:
"A cobweb to you might mean dust and decay,
But to me it's a home in my spidery way.
So hear what I plead and do your good deed,
And don't take my cobweb away."
Chorus:
My home, my home is the shed,
Where the woodlice and centipedes crawl,
Where the slugs like to climb,
leaving trails of green slime,
And the fungus grows out of the wall.
Now a fly is a great gastronomic pleasure
To a spider who will whisper "Hello, Treasure.
You know, you and all your ilk,
get caught up in my silk
And now I'm going to eat you - at my leisure ..."
"I'll pull off your wings for starters.
Your legs, I know will taste good.
Your head I will crunch as my favourite for lunch,
And I'll suck out your insides for pud!"
(My home, my home... )
I used to be quite frightened of the spider,
But now I treat him as my friend instead.
In the day he spends his time
in the shed with all the grime,
But at night he comes and sleeps with me in bed.
He loves the warmth of my belly-button,
And sometimes crawls under my two big toes.
He sleeps in the hair on my chest and elsewhere,
And leaves cobwebs all over my nose.
(His home, his home... )
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