The Ballad Of The Zombie Spider

With Apologies To Robert W. Service

The Ballad Of The Zombie Spider
by El Capitan of Baboon Pirates


In waning days of summer's term
Did Arachne construct her snare;
She pulled the hawsers taught and firm
And strung the spreaders middling fair;
To gather vermin night and day
She'd have no time for sport nor play.

The garden seemed a model site
For catching moths and 'hoppers green;
'Twas owned by Eric, Straight and White
Whose five-day beard could not be seen;
A deep thinker whilst sipping scotch
with the sunset he loved to watch.

An afternoon in August heat
The Wife and Eric played a game;
Tennis balls flew both fast and neat
'Til one foul ball went off the frame;
It landed near the 'nanner tree
Eric scrambled for a look-see.

Eric crouched and saw the spider
Munching a bug sans fork or knife;
The man just could not abide her
And swore he'd quickly end her life;
She'd made him look to his own end
A crease 'pon his soul to ne'er mend.

Donning his gloves of thick cowhide
Eric approached the silken shroud;
To show squashed spider to his bride
Would make Eric almighty proud;
His Mighty Clap, both strong and crude
Was watched by Mama Spider's brood.

The spider babies, thousands strong
Were horrified and quite unwell;
The roaring of their vengeance song
'Twas heard in depths of Zombie Hell;
Bringing forth putrid Zombie King
Whose own death chant began to sing.

Waving his decomposing hand
The tiny spiders all fell dead;
A poultice made of monkey gland
Applied by claw to every head;
And with the noxious cantrip spoke
Four thousand undead spiders woke.

From nook and crack, 'neath turning leaf
Lurk Zombie Spiders by the score;
They creep as would a bitter thief
Chasing Eric forevermore;
With patience borne through time and tide
For Eric sleeps with mouth held wide.

For morals seek out a pastor
A Deity or trusted kin;
Train for running ever faster
Should mother spiders you do in;
Learn from Eric, his vexing flaw
He's ne'er able to kill them all!




(It goes without saying that you fortunate folks attending the Southeast Writer's Conference AKA the Yellin' in Helen this weekend have my enthusiastic permission to regale Eric with this little ditty...)