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I wrote this for a friend of mine who
had an encounter with a huntsman a few nights ago.
This is not necessarily an accurate account of what happened and
no huntsman spiders or human beings were injured in
writing this poem.

Through the window starlight glitters.
‘cross the floor a dark form skitters
On its eight legs, long and hairy,
Beady eyes and fangs so scary.
Climbs the wall – from light shade peeping.
Now towards the bed it’s creeping,
To the form neath blankets sleeping
Comes the spider salivating.
Soon it’s hunger ‘twill be sating.
But the sleeper now is waking;
Could it be that she was faking?
In her hand a slipper whacking
And the spider’s shell is cracking
As his body, blows are mangling,
Till by just one leg he’s dangling.
Then he crashes, does the spider,
To the bedroom floor beside her.
Screams the victor: “That’ll teach ya!
Die, you vile and nasty creature!”

In the bed now she is dreaming,
But the huntsman’s wife is scheming.
Through the window starlight glitters;
‘cross the floor a dark form skitters!!

Image by JonRichfield via Wikipedia

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