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  • Writer's pictureAnton Corvus


Have you ever noticed,

On a windy Autumn night,

When October's sun has faded,

And the harvest moon shines bright?

Have you ever noticed,

In the firelight's haunting glow,

When the work of day is ended,

And the pace of life is slow?

Have you ever noticed,

While recumbent in your chair,

Something crawling round beneath you,

And what it is that's there?

And have you chanced to catch one,

In the corner of your eye;

Or seen one disappearing,

As it scurries quickly by?

Or have you ever seen one,

Dangling on a silken thread;

And have you moved abruptly,

Lest it lands upon your head?

October-time is spider-time,

It's that spider time of year:

When big, black spiders crawl from holes,

You never knew were there!

And when its spider-time each year,

Small girls will not wear frocks,

They like to wear long trousers,

And to tuck them in their socks.

And when eight-legged spiders crawl,

From every nook and cranny,

Scared, small children scream aloud,

And run to find their nanny.

Anton Corvus

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