Poor Spider
She looks like death
Eatin on a crippled spider
With a voice like a banshee
And the face of a fighter
She stands in the garden
To keep the crows scared away
When she walks 'cross the floor
The house starts to sway
Medusa was a goddess
With snakes in her hair
But she's no goddess
I promise - I swear
You would have sympathy
If ever you saw
The woman I speak of
My dear Mother-in-Law
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