Not many people like me, I’m sure I don’t know why.
I’m shy and unaggressive, and really quite small-fry.
There’s fuss and consternation when I run across the floor
Some people get hysterical and chase me out the door.
I wonder what it is about my looks that they don’t like.
Perhaps it’s the eight eyes I have that make them want to strike.
I hear complaints quite often about my hairy legs
And people always want to clear away my webs and eggs.
I serve a useful purpose, as you may not realize.
I weave my sticky web to trap and hold those pesky flies.
Then, of course, I eat them, which may seem gross to you
But that is just the way I am, what nature makes me do.
And don’t you think it’s cruel to step on animals like me
Who never did you any harm or caused you misery?
You’d be surprised how many of us live across the land
And yet you rarely see us; we seldom make a stand.
It’s true that those of us who have red stripes upon our backs
And those who live behind trapdoors can cause panic attacks.
But only if you menace us, sit on us in the loo
Or otherwise upset us, will we bite — well, wouldn’t you?
In Britain there is some respect for spiders, after all.
‘Tis said that if you step on one then rain will start to fall.
That of course is nonsense, it rains there anyway,
But in drought-prone Australia, it’s a dangerous thing to say.
Some spiders eat their husbands. I suppose I should admit
I’ve eaten one or two myself; it gives me quite a hit.
It’s only being practical, scoffing protein while it’s there —
When a fella’s fertilized my eggs, that’s the end of the affair.
If my appearance and my habits do not appeal to you
Consider then my artistry, the spinning that I do.
Have you ever seen a spider’s web shine white in morning mist?
You’d think of finest lace and trembling pearls it did consist.
To summarise my virtues: I catch flies and mozzies too
From pests protect your crops, and from diseases — you.
So when you see a spider, please don’t make a fuss.
Remember all the good we do and never mistreat us.