Incy wincy spiders, hiding in a box,
Stuck their little headses out and gave poor Shirley shocks,
Out came the Doom and sprayed them all away
Those incy wincy spiders never lived another day.
~ For my friend Shirley who is packing up her mum's house and discovering that the spiders who have been bravely guarding 1982's bank statements without thought of recompense, don't like being disturbed.
P.S. Before you label her a heartless arachno-killer, no spiders were (intentionally) harmed in the making of this rhyme - she's too scared to get near them.
