THE SPIDER'S PARLOUR

            The Spider worked,
            Through the dark of night,
            Holding a ball of silken yarn,
            To weave a house of her dreams. 

           Splendid it was when finished,
           As  meticulously planned,
           And diligently done,
           Like a flawless piece of art. 

             Then she sat proudly beside it,
             With an air of  self-admiration                                                              In a bid to allure everyone to visit,

              Her newly created mansion.

          And sure enough, she would have won,
           A huge accolade for her talent,
           As a master artist by the onlookers,
            And envied by any craftperson.

              If only she hadn't  abused,
            Her skill to hide her evil intent --
            Of seducing innocent visitors,   
            To fall into the jaws of death! 

 
              Hence a word of caution to  all,
             If ever you feel unwittingly drawn,
             Towards a spot of unusual  charm,
            Make sure it's fair as it appears to be 
                  And not a spider's parlour.