• Author: Spider
• Editor: B-6591
• Newspaper: The Umpire volume 2
• Page Number:
• Date: 7 30 1913
• Tags:
• poetry

WITH THE POETS SPIDER'S WAIL "Ho, Spider come, my window leaks, The rain's been pouring in for weeks, You said you'd fix the thing up good, That you'd put on a good new hood. Now here I've waited, day by day, While you just poke around and play. Just as I lay me down to sleep, This darn old window starts to leak. My prayers I said, but what of that ? The rain's still coming through that crack, I bet your window's nice and tight, No frost gets in, your toes to bite. The next time this old thing does leak, Under the bed I'll surely creep."' Those are the words I hear each day, As I go jogging on my way. They hold me up, wherever I go— Truly my heart is filled with woe. A window here, and a window there, It simply makes me pull my hair. I'm getting gray, and getting thin, Listening to all this awful din. The gang will get me bald on top, If this commotion they don't stop. —Spider.