Pitter Patter, pitter patter, pitter patter; I heard the sound of tiny feet
I turned around only to see the biggest spider you ever want to meet
If things couldn't be worse than to meet a spider that was that grand
With three pairs of gaited shoes and a black walking stick in his hand
I really don't want to trouble you Sir, but I seem to have lost my way
I have a good friend General Beatle, he's asked me to come and stay
He sent me a letter with his address; but I seem to have gone astray
On seeing the letter, I pointed South, then sent the spider on his way
Never in my life have I seen such a spider that stood over six feet tall
Who is off to visit General Beatle; down yonder, at the Fox Manor Hall
I found a bench where I sat awhile, whilst digesting this very thought
Then ran to the nearest public house, where a large whiskey I sought
When again did I not hear the sound of pitter patter of some tiny feet
With arms wide open; General Beatle and that spider did on me greet
Now, all of you may think, that this story is rather more than strange
But, when you are just an ant, I am far from thought of, as deranged
Indiana Shaw . . . ; )